


Best Friend’s Brother, But It’s My Brother’s Best Friend

by ggfhockey



Series: Reader Insert MCYT Universe [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: F/M, Gun Violence, Multiple Orgasms, No use of y/n, Obsession, Reader-Insert, Stalking, Top Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Vaginal Sex, bottom reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:41:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29507064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ggfhockey/pseuds/ggfhockey
Summary: Covid absolutely sucks. I've been sent home from college, and thankfully don't have to live with my parents again. No, instead I'm living with my brother and his friends. Did I mention that they're Minecraft streamers? And that my brother's best friend since they were kids is hot like burning? Kinda cool.Dreamxreader w sapdaddy's sister!reader and no use of y/nThis work contains graphic depictions of sex. The chapters with this type of content are labeled in the chapter, but some non graphic chapters still contain sexual themes. This is a warning. Please do not read this book if you are a minor, or uncomfortable with mature themes mentioned above. Thank you!
Relationships: Clay | Dream/Reader
Series: Reader Insert MCYT Universe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2167515
Comments: 25
Kudos: 263





	1. 1: Given the choice of anyone, whom would you want as a dinner guest?

**Author's Note:**

> You can find this fic on wattpad!  
> http://w.tt/3qDBTYU  
> You can also follow it on twitter!  
> @sisnap_  
> I will post update notifications and maybe sneak peeks so make sure to follow if you like the fic!  
> Hope you enjoy!

I mean it with every fiber of my being when I say I hate him. The world could end and all my idiot brother is thinking about is how many times he has to ask before I cave and stop to get him McDonalds. It's seventeen times, apparently, today. Nick pounds against the dashboard as I pull into the golden arches, hollering a "Let's goooooo!" that has me flinching at the volume. I don't care that he's almost 20 years old, he is an absolute child. He texts the groupchat with the boys as I enter the drive thru line, hunting through my center console for a mask for when I get to the window. Two more McDonalds orders enter my messages, and I groan. 

"You, oh my god, you are an absolute rat, Icky." I grumble. I hate talking to drive thru attendants, especially through the masks we have to wear for covid. I understand the need for protection, but I swear sometimes it is impossible to understand people through them. Especially after its run through a microphone and a crappy speaker. Nick scoffs at the nickname I gave him when we were, what, twelve? At least, I was, little icky Nicky was probably about nine when I got comfortable enough in the older sibling role to actually mess with the kid. 

"I still hate that stupid nickname, come on." He says, tone hinting at a long accepted defeat of not being able to stop me. I laugh, pulling forward to the speaker as the car in front of us pulls ahead. I turn to face him. 

"What do you want, Icky?" 

He glares. 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

The other two heathens I live with descend on the brown paper bags the second they're out of my hands and on the kitchen counter, pulling requested drinks out of the carrying tray and digging around in a drawer in the island where we keep extra sauce packets. George makes a soft victorious sound as he snags the final ketchup packets, Clay rolling his eyes and huffing as he goes to pull the full size bottle off the inside door of the refrigerator. 

"We'll get more soon, the amount of delivery you all order, don't get tilted over Gogy's ketchup, Clay." I giggle, pulling out my own food and earning my own eye roll from him. I plant myself in a chair across the counter from George, who leans on the counter, scrolling absently through tiktok while munching on his fries. 

"Scoot." Clay says from behind me, collapsing into the chair next to mine. He sets three containers of food in front of himself, and pulls a box of fries out from one of the bags, pulling the fridge ketchup out of his hoodie pocket and drenching the upper portion of one of the containers in it. He offers it to Nick, who is now standing next to George in a similar position, but phoneless. The look of disgust on Nicks face makes it seem like Clay was brandishing something much worse than a bottle of ketchup in his face, but Nick takes the bottle anyway, holding it the way you would a dirty diaper as he tucks it back into the fridge. 

The boys get lost in their food for a few minutes, all of us eating in a comfortable silence, until George breaks it, says something about a stream with Quackity and Karl, and he's off to his office off the dining room, door pulling shut with a quiet click. Nick follows suit a few moments later, taking his trash to the can in the closet and heading for the basement, where his and Clay's set ups reside. I fully expect Clay to go down too, but he doesn't, just shrugs at what I assume is a confused look on my face. 

"Not in the mood for that level of crazy right now." He explains around the food still in his mouth. I hate living with boys, household manners are important so people don't end up seeing each others chewed up food, or one another in just a towel, or- Clay in just a towel sounds nice - a voice in the back of my head sounds, and I immediately push down those thoughts, can't be thinking of baby brothers best friend like that. Although- nope, stop it. I'm pulled out of my inner monologue by Clay saying my name. 

"Yeah?" I ask. He laughs. 

"You zoned so hard, oh god." He wheezes out another laugh, and I lightly punch his shoulder. "It's my week for groceries and I want a buddy. Wanna come?" I consider it, going over the checklist of things I need to do. Paper due tomorrow, Online class at 6 pm, feed my cat. A short list, a store trip with Clay could easily fit in. 

"Sure, but I gotta mother my kitten first." I say, grabbing my trash and some of Clay's, who huffs at me, and throwing it in the garbage. I head up the stairs, eyes peeled for Pi, the large black maine coon I had rescued about a year and a half ago. I find him in one of his usual spots, camped outside the master bedroom that I absolutely refuse to let him enter. Nick likes to call him a tiny menace, which isn't wrong, because that cat will and does scratch almost anything he can sink his claws into. I squat down, scratching his chin a few times before scooping him up and walking to my room. I close the door to keep him in there, checking to make sure the litterbox in my en suite is clean enough before moving to refill the food and water I keep just outside the door of the bathroom. Pi looks up at me, green yellow eyes barely open as he steps forward and rubs his whole self against my leg. I coo at him, unable to help myself as I pick him up again and give him more scratches. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and decide I look decent enough for a store trip, checking my pockets for my phone, wallet, and keys, before heading back out to the hallway, pulling my door shut tight. I don't want him running rampant and scratching things while there's nobody here to stop him, so this is a simple solution. 

Clay is exactly where I left him, face buried in a text on his phone. Me collecting the rest of his trash on the counter in front of him is what causes his head to snap up, a quiet thank you passing his lips. He studies his phone for another moment, taps out something on it, then shoves it in his hoodie pocket as he stands. 

"My car or yours?"

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Riding shotgun while Clay drives has my stomach twisting for most of the drive. 

"Calm down, Baby Driver. We'll get there, hopefully in one piece if you slow down." He floors it as I say the last two words. I grab the handle above the car door, gripping with both hands. "Oh shit, Clay." 

My heart is still racing when he pulls into a parking spot outside the grocery store. 

"I absolutely refuse to let you drive home." Clay is laughing again, not quite wheezing but almost there, alerting the grocery app that we're here and they can start filling up the car. 

"I am not that bad, and you know it." I do. As much as Clay behind the wheel scares me, I'm being a little hypocritical. I tend to drive just as fast as he does, but it tends to be a lot different when you aren't in control. 

"Yeah, yeah, sure." I pull the aux out of his phone and plug it into mine, and he looks at me, eyebrows raised. 

"Got something good to play?" I nod, scrolling through my spotify until I land on the playlist I've had on for the past few days, pressing shuffle and locking my phone. George Michael's Careless Whisper starts playing from the car, and I blush as Clay laughs. 

"I forgot this was on the playlist." Clay smiles, opening his mouth to respond before someone knocks on his window. I turn the music down as he tugs his mask up from where it was resting under his chin, and a grocery worker confirms that Clay is Clay, and then asks him to open the trunk of his car so he can put the groceries in. As the car gets loaded, Clay turns back to me, looks ready to say something, but the look falls. 

"I had a funny joke and I forgot it." He says, faux upset in his voice. 

"Good. Don't need you bullying me more than you already do." He smiles, toothy grin and dimples playing upon tan skin and freckles, green eyes crinkling along well worn lines at the corner. God, he's handsome. The same voice from earlier supplied. It's not wrong. I hate to say that Clay's fans are definitely missing out on his face. His strong jaw is dusted with stubble the same color as hair, a blond so dirty its looks brown in certain lights, pink lips slightly chapped, nose covered in a spray of freckles that spreads across his cheeks. They cover his arms as well, partially hidden under the hair there. Those arms, too. Clay is definitely strong. There are weights in the corner of the basement he claimed for a workout area, obviously put to good use. Cords of muscle bulging under his skin, tapering to his hands, oh, those hands, long fingers, large, flat palms, and massive. Those hands make everything seem small, consuming water bottles, crowding around controllers, dwarfing his phone. 

The sound of the trunk closing brings me back to the world. Clay reverses out of the parking spot, one hand resting on the back of my headrest, another on the wheel, face pulled into a look of concentration and so much for not thinking about him like that right now. 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Nick is hunting through the pantry when we return, arms laden with groceries for the week, which I hate to admit is mostly junk food. He turns, half empty bag of doritos in hand, and nods at us, before heading back downstairs. 

Clay and I put the groceries away, saving a few things for the extra fridge we have in the mudroom. It's mainly drinks, Clay's beers, and cider for George, and White Claws Nick has and definitely shouldn't, but the freezer is full of frozen foods. I'm searching for room to fit a box of hot pockets when I realize that Clay got the wrong kind, and I shut the freezer, dragging myself and the box back into the kitchen. 

"We have to go back, they gave is the wrong hot pockets." Clay looks at the box, confused. 

"No, they didn't." He takes it out of my hands, pulling out the freezer drawer and shoving the box in. "I like the pizza ones."

"Sinner." He gasps, a look of mock hurt on his face. "Clay, come on, we all know philly cheesesteak is better." He's shaking his head. "Shut up, you're wrong." That gets him to bark out a laugh. 

"What?" He says between two large wheezes. "I'm not even talking and you're telling me to shut up?" He's still laughing, slapping a hand down onto the counter. 

"It's genuinely not that funny." I say, but I doubt he can hear me over how loud he's wheezing. I look at the clock on the microwave, it's only about three in the afternoon. I have time to get a lot of my paper done before I have class. "Gonna go work on a paper." I say, leaving Clay in the kitchen and walking up the steps to my room. I keep forgetting just how big the house we all live in is. I'm the most recent move in, after getting sent home from college because of the virus. Nick had called and offered up a room in his house with his friends, and as much as I love my parents, I jumped on the opportunity to keep living under a different roof than them. I knew who Clay and George were, I'm a huge supporter of my brother and make it to every stream I can, but moving in with strange boys is, well, strange. Thankfully we all have our own spaces, the house more than large enough to accommodate it. There are three bedrooms upstairs, each with their own attached bathroom. Mine, Clay's, and the master, which, in the spirit of fairness, is used as a guest room. There's two more bedrooms on the main floor, one George's and one Nick's, and George's setup in the office down there. Clay and George have their setups in the basement, tucked away in the final two bedrooms down there. There are living rooms both on the main floor and in the basement, but the main floor holds the kitchen and the dining room, and the mudroom that leads out to the garage. 

After about 2 and a half hours of working on my paper, there's a soft knock and then George is peeking into my room, offering a plate of pasta and some salad. 

"Figured you would be hungry up here working." He's right. I'm starving. 

"Thanks, Georgie. How was stream?" 

"Good, good. Played some GTA with Alex and Karl and Nick. How was the store?" I groan. "Surely it wasn't that bad."

"Clay drove."

"I take it back, that sounds awful." 

"You're right." I laugh. "I was fearing for my life in that car." George lays himself at the foot of my bed, dragging a pillow to lay on top of. "I do have class soon, Georgie." 

"I'll be quiet, I swear. Nick and Clay are playing Smash." Ahhh. The two of them playing Smash is loud enough to drown out any and all thought, and I understand George's desire to get away from that. 

"I hope you're interested in Educational Psychology, then." 

"Of course I am." George grins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First Chapter at 2356.


	2. 2: Would you like to be famous? In what way?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find this fic on wattpad!  
> http://w.tt/3qDBTYU  
> You can also follow it on twitter!  
> @sisnap_  
> I will post update notifications and maybe sneak peeks so make sure to follow if you like the fic!  
> Hope you enjoy!

George ended up staying for my whole class and more, grabbing a few of his ciders and the massive bag of pistachios I demanded Clay buy and camping out in my room with me. Once my paper was finished and turned in, I joined him in drinking, pulling twisted tea out of the mini fridge under my desk and cracking pistachios for him to try and catch in his mouth. Eventually, we settled from the laughing and being drunk, buzzes beginning to fade as we laid on our backs on the floor. Pi blinked down at us from my bed, and I reached up to scratch absently at him. I heard my phone buzz on my desk and pulled myself up rather reluctantly. Snapchats, a few instagram notifications, and a text... from Clay. I climb onto my bed and lay down, then open it. 

Clay Block  
Hanging out with Georgie without me  
I see how it is  
sent 11:38 pm

It's only from a few minutes ago, so I text him back.

Me  
u and nicky were busy clayton  
😩 if ur rlly so desperate for minecraft bfs  
attention i guess you can join is  
*us  
😳  
bring nick if hes not sleepin  
sent 11:43 pm

Three dots pop up to show he's typing, and then

Clay Block  
Attachment: 2 images  
Def sleeping.  
sent 11:43 pm

Two pictures of my brother passed out on the couch, drool pooling around his open mouth. I laugh and show them to George, who hiccups and giggles, maybe he's more drunk than I thought. I start typing out a response to Clay, stopping when he opens the door, three water bottles gripped in one massive hand. I'm not surprised he's not drinking with us. Clay has always been more of a smoker than a drinker. George calls out to him from the floor, sitting up quickly and then paling. Clay tosses him a water, flops down on my bed, and passes me one as well. We talk, mainly about George's stream and a video Clay edited. I'm not really paying the best attention. Instead, I'm sneaking in throwing pistachio shells at the two of them, giggling at the fact that George definitely is not sober enough to realize it's me doing it. He goes to bed around 1 am, leaving just me and Clay. 

The moment the door shuts behind George, I am hyperaware that I am alone. With Clay. In my room. My bed, nonetheless. He's stretched the length of the bed and then some, ankles and feet hanging off at the end. Both arms are tucked behind his head, sleeves of an old t shirt clinging to his muscle. I might be staring, and he notices, dropping one of those strong arms, those massive hands, and pulling me up to lay right next to him. He is touching me, his body an almost oppressive heat next to me. His arm maneuvers to dip down and play with the ends of my hair. I'm panicking internally. I won't lie and say I don't like him, I do. I just, this is Nick's best friend, his coworker, his roommate. I couldn't put Nick in that place, especially if it doesn't work and he feels like he has to choose his best friend or his sister. 

"I can hear you thinking." Clay says. "What's up?"

"We should play a game." I'm deflecting, but he doesn't catch on. 

"You want me to go get one?" I shake my head. 

"Like 20 questions." 

"Nah, my brain can't work to come up with good ones." He pauses and thinks for a second. "You ever done the Arthur Aron questions?" He sits up just barely for a second, pulling his phone from his back pocket and searching something up with the arm not under my head. "It's some psychological study. You're supposed to do it when you first meet, so we could probably modify the first meeting questions a bit, but they're cool. Cassie showed them to me." I don't see the harm in doing them, so I ask him what the first question is, and we start. 

"Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?"

"Weird. I don't know, do they have to be alive?"

"Doesn't say they do, but also does not say no."

"Huh. My mom, then."

"Isn't your and Nick's mom alive though."

"Mhm. But my birth mom isn't."

"I didn't know you were adopted."

"I guess thats what the questions are for, then."It's not something I talk about often, and I really don't want to bring it up now. "What about you, who's coming for din din?"

"Can I say two?"

"I won't tell if you don't."

"Cassidy and Caitlyn." That makes sense. Clay loves his sisters, and because of the pandemic, he hasn't been able to fly out from the house in Houston to visit them. 

"I hope this ends soon so you can go see them." I turn to look up at him, and that is his face right there. I could kiss him. I could mess up our friendship, possibly his and Nick's, possibly the whole team dynamic the three of them have. I could. I don't. Instead I tuck my head down, ending up with my head laying on his chest, unable to tell if my heart or his owns the racing beating in my ear. "What's the next one?"

"Oh, haha, this is good. Would you like to be famous? In what way?" He laughs again. "I wanna be a minecraft streamer/youtuber. It's my DREAM." He chokes out before devolving into a laughing fit that makes him sound like a 70 year old smoker. I can't help but laugh with him, even though the joke is absolutely awful. 

"You wanna be like the GeorgeNotFound?" I say, both of us starting all over again. Clay sounds like he might actually die, tea kettling at a pitch I've never heard him reach. "You wanna be Tommyinnit?"

"Stop! Stop! I'm gonna die, oh my god. I'm gonna pee myself!" He wheezes, actually rolling out of the bed and onto the floor. 

"Don't piss on my floor, Clayton!" I'm laughing just as hard as he is. Eventually we calm down, but one look at each other sends us right back. 

"Okay, okay. Do you wanna be famous?" He asks, and I don't even have to think about it. 

"No. Not at all." Clay looks at me expectantly, like he wants me to elaborate. I lay back, arms above my head before I speak again. "You guys get so much hate, and I could never handle it with the grace you guys do. I'd get one hate comment and shut down." He huffs. 

"I guess that makes sense. I think I'm kinda used to it at this point though." I look down at him and shake my head. 

"That's not something you should have to get used to though. Like, you get so much hate and you don't do anything wrong. There's all this pressure on you guys, like you're not the same as everyone else, and y'all are just like, not normal dudes just playing games." Clay frowns from the floor. 

"You're right. I don't know. I think about what my life would be like if my channel hadn't blown up all the time, and like" He turns to lay on his stomach and look up at me. "I don't know how to say this without sounding ungrateful. I kinda miss being a small channel. I love all my fans and appreciate all their support and never would have dreamed in a million years that this could be my life, but like- it can get to be a lot of shit." 

"That makes sense. And it doesn't make you ungrateful, I don't think. Fame's a double edged sword. You always get like, this view of it through rose colored glasses? Is how I wanna say that? And then you experience it, or you see someone experience it and realize it's a lot more than you think." 

"Damn." Clay laughs, blowing out a weighted breath. "Heavy shit and it's only question two."

"You're telling me. What's number three, hit me with it." I toss him his phone. 

"Before making a telephone call, do you ever rehearse what you are going to say? Why?" Clay pauses. "You wanna go first or me?"

I sit up, scooting back up against my pillows and the headboard. "I can go. It depends on the phone call. Like, if I'm calling someone to chat I chat, but if its like, the doctors office or takeout or something like that, I make a little list of things I wanna talk about." 

"I'm the same. I spend so much time on calls, and obviously I rehearse the stuff for the SMP, but other than that it's just like you said."

"Twinsies." I smile. 

"Yeah, sure, twinsies. What would constitute a perfect day for you?" 

I take a moment to think about that one. "I'm not sure, honestly. I've had a lot of bad days, so I guess, like, a normal one would be perfect for me right now. Just, hanging out and doing things I did before covid, being back on campus and with all my school friends. I miss them, and we didn't get to say goodbye right." 

"That sucks. I'm sorry you had to deal with that. I'm a little glad that I didn't go to college, I cannot imagine the, not pain, but that's the word I keep thinking, that dealing with that comes with." 

"Yeah." There's a silence for a moment, an air of vulnerability, and then Clay starts asking questions again. 

We go through a fair few, apparently there are 36. Somewhere around question 6 he joins me on my bed again, close to me, but not cuddling like we were earlier. We don't get as deep into them until question 14. 

"Is there something that you've dreamed of doing for a long time? Why haven't you done it?" 

My breath catches, and I instantly start trying to think of something to say other than I want to kiss you. "I- shit. There's a few things."

"What's the first one that comes to mind?" 

I'm tempted to lie, and say something stupid, but... Clay and I are being honest right now. I want to be honest, or as honest as I can without fucking everything up. I take a deep breath to steady myself. 

"There's this guy, and I really like him and I haven't done anything about it." 

"Yeah?" Our eyes are locked on each other, pools of bright green staring straight through me to my soul.  
"What's stopping you from telling him?"

Another deep breath from me. "The aftermath of me telling him. I want it to work out, but if it doesn't it won't be pretty. I'm, I guess scared is the word, of the what ifs. I don't think he likes me like that, anyways, so..." I leave the sentence hanging, unsure of the words to finish it, the thoughts to finish it. 

"I kind of understand where you come from. I've got a, uh, similar situation going on." His face is fallen, and I don't like the atmosphere of this room right now. There's palpable tension that feels like an elephant weighing down on my chest. I employ my normal self defense tactic. I crack a joke. 

"Yeah, telling Georgie that you're a massive simp for him might have consequences." Clay doesn't laugh, just stares up at the ceiling, unreadable expression on his face. 

"It's not George." His tone is deadly serious, and the loud heartbeat that was blaring through my ears returns. "Or Nick." 

"Oh." 

He turns to me, faces inches apart, eyes glued to mine. One of his hands curls up, brushing stray hair out of my face, and he starts leaning impossibly closer. I can taste the toothpaste on his breath, and I have no doubt he can smell the alcohol on mine. I'm suddenly very aware that the rest of him is shifting closer as well, and I freeze. "Can I kiss you?" He breathes, lips brushing against mine as he speaks. I can't use words, so I nod, and then his lips are on mine. It takes me a moment to process, and then my hands are carding through his hair, and I am in heaven. After a bit, I can't breathe, but still I whine as he pulls back. "Shit." He's breathing heavily, and I know that I am not much better. "That's- fuck baby." He kisses me again, much more heated, biting my lip and licking into my mouth. He grabs my shoulders, turning us so he's above me, hands on either side and body pressed up against mine. My hands go straight for his hair again, tugging lightly and dragging a moan from him. "Baby- baby." He says into my mouth. I hum, pulling back as best as I can and looking up at him. 

"Yeah?" He laughs and smiles. 

"Yeah." I smile with him. "God, baby, you have no idea how long I've wanted to do that." Clay lays his head on my chest. "Been crushin' on you forever." That's interesting. I'm a little surprised by that, and I tell him so. "Yeah?" He's been saying that a lot. "Remember when I came to visit Nick for his birthday? And we all met for the first time?" I nod. "I met you that week, and Nick told me to shoot my shot and I didn't." Shit. That's even longer than I've been into him. 

"Nick told you to go for it?" I shake my head. "I would have thought he would be pissed about it."

Clay laughs. "He was, at first. Told me if I tried to get with you he would skin me alive, and I didn't doubt him. But we had a bro chat, and I don't know why, but he told me he wouldn't be mad. The skinning threat still stands, but only if I hurt you." That makes me laugh. 

"That's my brother, I guess." Clay picks his head up from my chest and kisses me again, soft and sweet. I hum. I could get used to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2374 words of 3 am things


	3. 3: Before making a call, do you rehearse what you’re going to say? Why?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find this fic on wattpad!  
> http://w.tt/3qDBTYU  
> You can also follow it on twitter!  
> @sisnap_  
> I will post update notifications and maybe sneak peeks so make sure to follow if you like the fic!  
> Hope you enjoy!

I wake up hot. Unbearably so. There's a weight on my chest and a cat meowing at me from the floor. I blink my eyes open and try to pull my hands up to rub the sleep from them, but the weight on my chest grumbles and tugs them back down. Clay. My vision takes a second to focus, but once I can see him, he's all I can focus on. Soft light flutters in from between my curtains, highlighting his face, relaxed in sleep. He's laying on his stomach, half on the bed and half on top of me, legs tangled in mine and head resting on my chest. He's holding one of my hands and I almost coo at how adorable he looks. I could stare at him all day like this, and I want to, but Pi meows at me again, hungry. Fine. 

I try to get out from under Clay without waking him up but it's no use. The second I try to move he drops my hand and hugs me. "Stay with me." I can't decide between the way that makes my heart soar at the closeness or my head start racing at the low rough tone of his morning voice. 

"I gotta feed the kitties." He huffs at that, but rolls over to his back to let me up. 

"Come back when you're done, yeah?" 

"Yeah." I climb out of the bed, the cold floor a shock from the nearly oppressive heat of Clay's body. I pick Pi up off the floor and settle him on my chest, upper body and paws hanging over my shoulder. The door gets shut cautiously, quietly, and I make my way downstairs in a similar fashion. Nick is still dead to the world on the couch, Patches laying on the back of it near his head. She jumps down when she sees me, and I let Pi down to greet her. The two of them get along like a house on fire, rubbing up against each other and my legs. I walk to the kitchen where George is sitting at the table, swirling his spoon in a half eaten bowl of cereal. He looks surprisingly well rested for how out of it he ended up last night. I take the cat food from the pantry and refill the dry bowl before I start mixing the wet food for them. 

"How late did you two end up staying up?" George asks. I fluster, busying myself with the wet food and refilling the water. 

"Oh, not too long after you left. We did some psychology study question thing and then conked." George shoots me a look I can't quite read. 

"How many questions were there?" is not what I was expecting to come out of his mouth, but it does. 

"Uhm, like 36, why?" I say, and he laughs. 

"You did the 36 questions that lead to love with him?" That is interesting. Inch resting. Lead to love?

"The what?"

"This guy came up with these 36 questions that are supposed to be done on a first date. You did them with him?"

"I guess?" George laughs lightly and goes back to his cereal. I guess that's the conversation. I set the food on the floor for the cats, and pull some tylenol from a drawer, popping 2 dry. George might not be terribly hungover, which is totally unfair, but I am and I plan on sleeping it off. I'm curious about what George said, about the questions and if they really do lead to love. I shake the thought out of my head. Clay liking me is a relatively new thing to me and this is not something I should be worrying about yet. I head back upstairs, but pause outside my door. Nervous thoughts race through my head. This is Clay. I tell myself. Clay, whose apparently been crushing on you for years. Clay, your idiot kid brother's best friend. Clay, the guy you like, who likes you. He likes you. I open the door, and he's laying, phone in hand, turning to look at the door. He makes grabby hands at me, pulling me to him as I climb back into the bed. 

"Hi." His voice is less rough, but the tinge of sleep is still a little noticeable. I smile, and he returns it, eyes barely open with how hard he's cheesing. 

"Hi." He buries his head in my neck, still smiling against my skin. It's easy to be like him with this, not thinking about things happening outside the safety of my room, just the very attractive boy in my bed that kissed me last night. 

He places a soft kiss to my neck before pulling his face back, his hand coming up to my jaw and turning me to him, kissing me. It's slow, gentle, almost lazy. We stay like that for a while, lazy kisses and smiles between us. 

"You have any classes today?" I shake my head. 

"Nah, I get fridays off. Why?" 

"Just wonderin' how much time I get with you." That was cute. I give him a quick peck on the mouth, surprised slightly when his hands thread into my hair, pulling me down for a proper kiss. 

"I feel like I'm in a fever dream." I say after a while. Clay is blanketing himself overtop of me, playing with the ends of my hair that he can reach. 

"Is it really so unbelievable? I've liked you forever."

"Not unbelievable, just- I never thought this would happen." I take a moment to think what I want to say next. "You really liked me since we met?" Clay sits up on his elbows, resting his head on his hands. 

"I think since before then, maybe. Like, you'd get on and play with me and Sap, and I loved those days. And then you went to school and didn't have time to play with us and I was pissed cause I thought I missed my chance." 

"You sound like a simp." I joke, and he cracks a smile. 

"For you, yeah. I found out you were moving in to quarantine and Nick had to shut me up every 45 seconds cause I wouldn't stop freaking out over it." 

"Were you really that geeked over it?" He laughs and lays down again, returning to playing with my hair.

"For all I knew I was your dorky brother's dorkier best friend. I didn't know where I stood with you. If I did then this woulda happened a lot sooner." It's weird, to hear Clay talk like this. Never in a million years would I think that we would end up here, that I would get a chance at something like this with him.

"I really liked you too, you know." Interest piques on his face, silently urging me to continue. "I came back one break from school, and Nick and George and you had just all moved in together. I came to visit for like a weekend, remember?" He nods. "I wasn't expecting dorky brother's dorkier best friend to be hot like burning and a nice guy to boot." He laughs lightly, and I feel blush start to creep onto my cheeks. 

"Hot like burning?" He teases, and I am definitely blushing. 

"Yeah, you're a furnace." I laugh, and try to push him off of me. He buries his head into my neck and we stay like that until I'm falling back asleep. 

————————

I wake up alone in my bed, but there's the distinct sound of someone puttering about in my bathroom, so I assume it's Clay. It hits me that I am absolutely ravenous, and so I climb out of bed just as Clay walks out of the bathroom, plastic bag of cat litter in hand. 

"You're doing my chores now?" 

"Cat box was full." He shrugs, and we both go for the door. Clay takes the stairs two at a time going down, another reminder of just how much bigger he is than I am. Nick is missing from the couch this time around, but George is watching a video and shooting me a look. 

I find my brother in the kitchen eating eggs on toast like it's his job. "Mornin'." He says around his food, and I fake a gag. 

"This is why I call you Icky, you know." He rolls his eyes at me. 

"You good?" He asks after he swallows. 

"I'm tired as fuck. I'm hungry as fuck, too." I pull open the door to the pantry, staring blankly and hoping for something to catch my eye. The pop tarts jump out at me, so I grab a packet of them before turning to hunt through the fridge. I pull out the eggs and these little pre made egg cups I found to be a godsend while on campus and go to work, pop tarts in the toaster, egg cracked into the cup of precooked sausage and cheese. I add a bit of garlic salt, a trick my roommate came up with one morning that revolutionized our breakfast. I check the fridge for the chopped up green onion I know I put on the door and find the baggie on the middle shelf. It's a little bit more prep than I normally go for in a hangover breakfast at 2pm, but I'm not kidding when I say these eggs are amazing. God bless my roommate Olivia. I get the eggs in the microwave just as my pop tarts are done in the toaster and munch on one of them as I stare blankly at the microwave like it makes the food cook faster. 

Nick gets up to put his dishes in the sink but not do them because he is actually the scum of the earth. I tell him that and he snorts a laugh. "High praise from someone squatting in my home." I shove into the side of him and he shoves back, and we're both laughing. 

"You invited me, dummy." 

"Yeah, to shut you up about having to go back to Mom and Dad's." I mock offense as the microwave beeps to signal my eggs are ready. 

"You love me." Shit, these eggs are hot. I grab my remaining pop tart and go to sit at the kitchen counter. 

"I do." I'm glad we can act like siblings with each other. It's a point of worry for Nick, an irrational fear that one day I'll decide I don't want him as a brother, or decide that I don't want his family as mine, and that I'll leave. A secret he unknowingly disclosed to me one drunken night while crying over me trying to go to bed. I worry about him a lot. He's young, they all are, but he's younger than them even. Nick has never taken criticism well and now the public watches almost every move he makes. I wasn't kidding when I told Clay why I didn't want to be famous. I was there for Nick's late night phone calls after he got started reading hate comments. It wasn't a big issue for me, I barely slept at college, but my heart breaks for him, for all of them. These people, their fans, have no idea who they are off of a screen and use the anonymity of the internet to say and do awful things. That kind of stress puts a lot on a person and it's really not fair to them, but it's their choice. Still, I'm going to be there for all of them, especially Nick, because that's what you do for your family. "You good?" Nick asks, snapping me out of the internal diatribe I've got going on.

"Yeah, just thinking about things." I don't want him to worry about me worrying about him. We tend to stick each other in vicious cycles like that, and this doesn't need to be one. 

"What's your big brain got going on? 10000 IQ Among Us strats?" That gets me to laugh. 

"You scared I'm gonna wipe the floor with you again? You've never won a game against me unless you killed me first. Gonna try and win again? Cry when you lose? Piss your pants, maybe?" 

"Nah, nah. I'm not Dream, I only piss in cups." I mime putting my fingers down my throat and fake gag, and we're both laughing.

"I swear that is one of the single most disgusting things ever. Just piss on the side of the road? Like what?" 

"I didn't want to get kidnapped!" 

"You are geekin' so hard, they couldn't kidnap you. You would start talking about Minecraft and they'd drop you 200 feet down the road." I'm barely talking around this joke, but I continue. "30 seconds in a car with you begging for McDanks or talking about your MLG water during the last manhunt and they'd drive you back, drop you off, and apologize for ruining your night." Neither of us can actually function after that, giggling every time we look at each other. Clay comes out of the mud room and makes a beeline for the sink to wash his hands. 

"We should stream Among Us today, yeah?" I can't tell if Nick is asking me or Clay, but Clay hums in agreement and Nick turns to me, snagging my other pop tart off the plate. Rude. "Wanna join?" I nod because I'm not an animal and I am shoveling eggs into my mouth. I hope these boys can learn by example. They head into the basement together after shouting to George to get on and come play. I finish my eggs and run upstairs, capturing Pi at the top of the steps and finding Patches conked out on the cat tree by my window. I set my kitty on another level and boot up my desktop. Nick is streaming on his alt account, George on his main, and I get invited to a discord server with them and a few other people. The second I enter voice chat my headphones explode with sound. I make out Karl saying hello to me, and I greet him back.

"Woah, woman!" I hear Tommy say.

"Tommy this is my sister, behave." Nick warns, and Tommy does the opposite, starts calling me Sisnap and asking questions. I make that my name in the game, make my skin orange and put on the halloween cat hat. We're waiting for viewers to start rolling in, so I answer a few of them.

How old are you? 

22

Does Sapnap smell?

Yes, he's stinky. /j though, he actually showers.

Do you know GeorgeNotFound?

Yes, I do.

Do you know Dream?

That one gets me to laugh. "Yeah, I know Dream and George. I live with them right now." The fans found out last week that the three of them live together, and further confirmation of it apparently makes George and Nick's chats explode. 

"She got sent home from school cause of covid, chat, chill." I pull up Nick's stream in another window, chat is spamming stuff like dreams gf, george has a girl? and is she dating one of them?. I'm pulled away once the game starts, and I'm a crewmate. I'm doing the wire task when I see Nick walk into electrical with me, so I exit the task and run. I'm not fast enough though, and he vents into security after he kills me. Typical. I do tasks until the meeting is called, and Clay is also dead. I think it's George, so I ask in ghost chat and Clay confirms. 

Sap is the other one right?

yeah he is

The meeting ends, and nobody is voted out. George has sus on him, but Nick doesn't. Karl offers to follow George, so I float behind them to see if he kills him. Lights go out, Nick stack kills in electrical, and then gets voted off. George gets the vote in the next round for a crewmate win, and suddenly everyone is talking at once. 

"George!" Clay is yelling. "You killed me! Why did you kill me?!" George giggles. 

"You were an easy target, Dream. Maybe get a buddy and then you won't get killed first round." Clay is still grumbling. We go a few rounds before I get imposter with Tommy. I kill Karl first in Nav, then call reactor. I vent into admin and find Nick coming down from cafeteria, and head to the emergency with him. I get them to sus Nick when the body is found, and he gets voted off. The next round is god tier. Tommy and I double kill in med, I vent to cams and sit there, killing Clay and standing on his body till someone reports the bodies in Medbay. They vote off George because he doesn't have an alibi and sus Tommy, and Tommy calls reactor for the final kill. 

"Actual dog water! Garbage! Garbo! Garbanzo fucking beans! Eat it, Nick!" I yell, and George is yelling 'I told you!' over and over, Tommy and I hyping each other up. A few more rounds, but nothing uneventful, and Nick and George cross the three hour mark, both deciding to end their streams. I spend a few minutes milling around in the discord call, talking to Karl about an episode of Survivor we watched the other day. Nick got us into it, and on chill nights after dinner, the four of us pile onto the couch to watch it. The conversation gets interrupted by George knocking on my door. I mute, and turn to him. 

"Clay wants to know what you want for dinner. Either burgers or tacos, the ground beef needs to be eaten." 

"Tacos, 100%." George nods, and I turn back to my conversation with Karl. We gossip about the season, which has one of my favorite players, Spencer, and how jacked it is he got voted off. I decide tonight is a night we watch more, which of course Karl supports. 

Today has been a good day, and I can't wait till later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3016 babey pog champ


	4. 4: What would constitute a "perfect" day for you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find this fic on wattpad!  
> http://w.tt/3qDBTYU  
> You can also follow it on twitter!  
> @sisnap_  
> I will post update notifications and maybe sneak peeks so make sure to follow if you like the fic!  
> Hope you enjoy!

This chapter contains graphic smut. You have been warned.

Taco night ends up being that one tiktok thing, the kitchen island covered with tinfoil and heaped with taco staples. It's messy but fun, although we go through a fair amount of paper towels trying to keep ourselves relatively clean. The conversation flows easily between us. I'm going to miss them when I move back to school, if that ends up happening. I go out of state, 2 timezones away. It's a small school on the east coast, only about 2000 students, but their education program is absolutely amazing. The handsome scholarship they offered me for swimming isn't bad either. I didn't plan on going out of state for school, but I applied just to see if I could get in. It's competitive, especially with a program like theirs, which promises my masters degree in five years. And it's near where I lived with my mom before everything happened.

I remember the day I got my acceptance letter, driving Nick and I home from school and immediately checking the mailbox. He was so excited, started planning out weekends he could fly out to visit and meets he could come to, looking up pictures of the campus online. There are tears welling in my eyes before I realize it, and George asks me if I'm okay.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm good, just- I miss school." Nick rubs my arm where it rests on the table.

"Wanna take your mind off it?" My brother knows me like the back of his hand.

"Survivor?" I ask, and then we're all moving to the couch. I end up snuggled into Clay on the floor, because of course he's a floor person. George and Nick each claim an arm of the couch, kicking at each others feet. I snag a massive fuzzy blanket and settle in as the theme music plays from the TV. We're starting a new season, one of my favorites, George and Nick haven't seen it before. I lose myself in the crazy plotting and scheming going on in between challenges, cheering for Wentworth when she finds an immunity idol during a challenge.

"I don't like Vytas." Clay says next to me, and I laugh. He gets voted off this episode. We watch all the way up until the Angkor tribe gets formed, then Nick gets up to go to bed. I turn the TV off and extract myself from Clay to do the same. I am ready to knock the fuck out.

Clay follows me up the stairs like a lost puppy, chattering excitedly about the episodes we just watched. He pauses outside of my door as I open it, looking at me expectantly. "You can sleep in here with me if you want, dear." He smiles.

"I'm gonna get pajamas first, ok?" I nod, heading to put on my own jammies. I grab some pajama shorts and a much too large t shirt because homeboy is an actual furnace and I don't want to wake up in a puddle of sweat. I pause for a moment before pulling out some lingerie. A semi-sheer white lace bralette and matching lace panties. At best, I get some looking sexy as all hell, and at worst, I conk out looking sexy as all hell. Win-win, really. Clay comes in as I'm brushing my teeth, hugging me from behind and nuzzling his face into my neck. He's got what have to be the ugliest orange FSU sweatpants known to man slung dangerously low across his hips, no shirt. "Hi." His breath is hot against my skin, and he places a soft kiss on the junction of my shoulder. Dumb whore time, I guess.

"H'llo." I say around my toothbrush before I spit into the sink. Clay makes a face of mock disgust as I rinse with water and then spit that too.

"You wanna spit on me like that?" He jokes. Not really, but do I want him to do it to me? Abso-fucking-lutely I do. I turn around to face him, tucking some loose strands of hair behind his ear before dragging my fingers down his jaw, touch feather light.

"I would much rather you do it to me." His reaction is instantaneous, but it's not the one I want. He flusters, blush reaching his ears and down his neck.

"You- I-Jesus." He sputters, eyes going wide and eyebrows disappearing under the mop of dirty blonde hair that falls down his forehead. He takes a moment, looking at me, like he's waiting for me to say something, hit him with a /j or something. He doesn't get it, not from me, and I can see the shift in his eyes. He crowds me up against the counter, and I shy away, losing all my previous confidence. Clay seems to have stolen it from me, grabbing my jaw and forcing my face to his before he speaks again. All of his previous fluster is gone, pupils blown and eyes laser focused to mine. "You want me do be rough with you, huh?" Oh shit.

I don't answer, thoughts to busy to allow me the time, images of all the things he could possibly mean by rough flying through my head. His hand tightens, pulling my face up to where it's millimeters away from his. "Do I have to ask again?"

"No, no sir, you do not." I intend it to be joking, trying to lighten the mood before I drop to my knees and suck his dick a foot away from the box of cat shit, but his fingers twitch ever so slightly at the name. "Yes, I want you to be rough with me, please." I whine out the last word, and thats all it takes to get his lips on mine, the hand on my jaw falling to rest upon my throat ‘god, yes’ and the other tangling itself in my hair.

Clay kisses me hard, all teeth and tongue, none of the sweetness previously shared between us. It's bruising in the best way, his tongue fucking into my mouth like he fucking owns it. The counter behind me digs hard into the back of my thighs so I pull back for a second to jump up onto it, and then Clay is back and all I can think about is him and how he's kissing me. The hand in my hair moves to start tugging at the bottom of my shirt, the one around my throat joining it. I actually whine at the loss, which is embarrassing as all hell, but then my shirt is off and Clay is staring at me. I'm suddenly self conscious, crossing my arms across my stomach.

"Oh, baby, no. You're just- God baby, look so pretty for me." I nearly preen under the attention, not expecting him to continue, but he does. "Dressed up all pretty, such a good girl for me aren't you, baby?" His voice is laced with something I can't quite place, but it has me tugging at him, parting my legs so he can get closer to me. "Such a good whore for me." He says, voice so low I almost don't catch it. My breath catches and he grins, predatory. "You like that? Of course you would, dirty girl. Dressed up all nice for me like you knew you were gonna get fucked." His fingers hook into my waistband and I lift my hips up for him to slide my shorts and panties off in one go. He settles to his knees on the floor, face looking directly into my pussy, which I'm sure is dripping. Like I said, dumb whore time. "Look at you, baby, gonna feel so good on my cock."

I whimper, honest to god whimper, at the thought of that. I can see the outline of his cock pushing against his ugly ass sweatpants. It's big, just like the rest of him. Speaking of the rest of him, those massive hands come up to rest on my knees, warm and absolutely dwarfing me, head turning up at me.

"Wanna make you cum on my tongue." This boy is going to be the god damn death of me. I nod in response, and he's off, licking into me with the same ferocity he was kissing me with. I moan high in my throat as one hand dips, two fingers sinking into me, curling up just as his lips latch to my clit and he sucks.

"Fuck, Clay!" I shout before I can stop myself, slapping a hand over my mouth as my eyes roll back into my head. He is unfairly good at this, fingers and fucking sinful mouth barreling me towards an orgasm embarrassingly fast. His tongue is fucking into me as his thumb plays with my clit and I am so close, so fucking close to cumming. A pair of fingers push in alongside his tongue and I feel my orgasm hit me, pleasure filling my body from between my legs, hips rolling into Clay's face to work through it. He keeps going, pushing me into overstimulation and I take the hand off my mouth and lace it into his hair, pulling his face up and kissing him. His fingers are still working me, and I whine into his mouth. "Clay, Clay, fuck-" I breathe out, and he keeps going, pushing in a third finger and rubbing tight circles into my clit with his thumb. The pleasure is overwhelming. I'm still so sensitive from cumming but I feel the burning return low in my stomach. We're not even kissing at this point, just breathing each others air as he fucks me with his fingers. He's obscenely good at this, petting at my g spot with those fucking fingers.

I am in no way prepared for him to start talking again, but I moan when he starts spilling more filth from his mouth. "Such a good whore for me, already came and can't wait for more." He presses his mouth against mine in a sad excuse for a kiss, but I am fucking gone. "Can't wait to feel you cum on my cock, gonna feel so fucking good, such a good fucking girl." I'm gasping for breath, and Clay sinks back between my legs, replacing the thumb on my clit with his tongue, curling once, twice, and I'm cumming again, crying out and tugging at his hair, the arm I've been using to support myself collapsing as he works me through it, tongue heavy and hot, fingers still petting. I whine when he removes them, but he pats my quaking thigh. "Wanna fuck you, need a condom."

"You don't, just fuck me." He looks at me, serious.

"I'm not trying to have kids yet."

"Neither am I, s'why I have birth control, fuck me." He finally listens, flipping me so my chest and stomach are pressed against the counter, and I'm face to face with myself in the mirror. I can see him behind me, finally taking off those revolting sweatpants and revealing a cock I cannot wait to have inside of me. He pumps himself a few times before lining up behind me.

"This is good, yeah?" I don't tell my voice to respond, but it does.

"Yeah, yeah, good, fuck me, Clay."

"Should make you cum on my fingers again, teach you some fucking patience." He rubs the head of his cock against me, teasing me. "Guess I'll make you cum twice on my cock instead." And then he's sliding home, all in one smooth stroke. He feels fucking huge, and then he moves, cursory and cautious. The sound I make is gutural, all thought of being quiet forgotten as he sinks in again. It's slow, careful, and I want him to destroy me.

"I said fuck me." A mistake. He sets a brutal pace, bending over me as his hips snap audibly against me, echoing through the bathroom. His voice is in my ear, hand wrapping in my hair and jerking my head up to meet his eyes in the mirror. I look absolutely fucking wrecked, pupils blown wide and tears I hadn't realized were flowing streaming down my face.

"Look at how much of a whore you are for me." I'm gonna cum, I'm so close, pleasure white hot in my brain ready to explode. "Watch yourself cum on my cock." I do. I can't look away, Clay's vice grip on my hair keeping my face glued to my reflection as my mouth falls open, moan spilling out and tongue lolling. My whole body heats, and he releases my hair, head falling to rest on the cool countertop as he chases his own release, massive hands gripping my hips as he fucks into me. He's making noises I can barely register, too overstimulated to focus on anything, but they're low and animalistic. It takes longer than usual to work me back up again, but eventually I'm moving my hips as best as I can to meet his thrusts. "Such a good girl for me, dirty fucking slut for me, can't wait to cum again." He's right. It feels so good, so right. This is definitely the best sex I've had, period.

"Clay, please." I sob out. He doubles down, fucking himself as deep into me as he possibly can, and the orgasm rips through me, vision whiting out. I'm fairly certain I call out his name, but I can't be sure. My brain isn't working, barely registers when Clay's half soft cock is pulled out of me. There's a damp washcloth cleaning me, hands pulling off the bralette and pulling the oversized shirt back on, and then they're coaxing me off the counter.

"Bedtime, yeah?" I nod at him and stumble my way to my bed, collapsing into it. Clay walks around to the other side, snuggling up behind me and pulling the blankets at the foot of the bed up to cover us.

"G'night, baby." He says soft, sweet, pressing a gentle kiss to my shoulder.

I hum in response, and promptly pass the fuck out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2342 of a whole lotta porn from the porn gulag


	5. 5: When did you last sing to yourself? To someone else?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find this fic on wattpad!  
> http://w.tt/3qDBTYU  
> You can also follow it on twitter!  
> @sisnap_  
> I will post update notifications and maybe sneak peeks so make sure to follow if you like the fic!  
> Hope you enjoy!

I think I must have died and gone to heaven. Clay feeds the cats this morning because he is the perfect specimen of a man and knows that I most likely will stay sedentary for most of today. It's a Saturday, so really I don't have to do anything, but I have a paper due tomorrow night that I should really get started on. Instead, I end up scrolling through twitter, where I see #sisnap is trending in the US. Dear Lord. I shoot a text to Nick about it and scroll through the tag. It's all good things, a few funny ones I screenshot and send to the boys, along with saying 'coming for ur fame???' George sends some weird punctuation emote and Clay just likes the message. He comes back to my room after a while, with breakfast because, as I said, he is the perfect specimen of a man. 

"You're too good to me." I say, and he laughs. 

"It's just breakfast." He's blushing a little, and it makes me smile. 

"Thank you for breakfast, dear." He smiles wide at that, passing me my laptop when I ask because I have made him my personal attendant for today. He's the one who dicked me into fucking friday of next week, he's the one who can pay for it. He grabs his laptop from his room and edits some video for George's channel while I write. I get a sizeable amount done and it's still technically morning, so I close my laptop and snuggle up to Clay. 

"What is this one?" I ask, and he starts talking about the video, a challenge George coded so that every block they break spawns a random mob, like the silverfish blocks in the stronghold. I try to watch him work from where I'm laying against his chest, but I am weak, and eventually fall back asleep. 

I wake up to Clay shaking me, passing me my phone, which lights up with a call from Nick. I answer, voice quiet. 

"Yeah?"

"Hey, I'm streaming, and the chat is staging a mutiny to get you to come on for like five minutes tops." 

"Does he need you?" Clay says from next to me and I mentally curse him. 

"Is that Dream?" Damn it. I swear to god there is no brain in his head half the time. 

"Uh, yeah, he's helping me." I don't have one either, apparently. 

"Helping you with what?"

I'm panicking, and then it hits me. "My desktop is being all fucky wucky, and he's trying to see if he can fix it." Smooth like fucking butter, I am. 

"Ahhh, well, when he's done tell him to get on, but in the meantime do you want to come sit and commentate or bully me or something so I don't get the six thousandth dono demanding it?" I think about it for a second, and don't really see the harm in it. 

"Sure, I can come down. Gimme a sec to look like a person." I hang up the call and slap Clay gently on the wrist. "You're brain is fucking useless." I joke. I'm not really mad, it's an honest mistake. "Sibling duty calls." I pull myself out of bed. My legs are definitely sore, as is most of me, but I can manage now. I get dressed in something comfy in my bathroom, because even though he's seen me naked, it still feels weird to change in front of Clay. He gives me a quick kiss when I leave the room, following me out and turning down the hallway towards his bedroom. 

I navigate the stairs carefully, nearly celebrating at the bottom until I remember that Nick is in the basement, and I'm only halfway there. Fuck. I grab two water bottles out of the fridge before I begin tackling staircase number two. It goes easier than the first one, and then I'm knocking on the door of the room Nick has his set up in. It's decked in fanart, LED lights on the top and bottom baseboards set to a stark white while the actual light for the room remains off. His PC and all that is set up on the far wall, monitors mounted in a curve around his keyboard and mouse. The desk is an absolute mess, trashcan underneath overflowing with trash, and a bong tucked between two of the monitors, sitting on a box I know he uses to store his bud and other stuff like his grinder and a spare bowl. He tells the stream to hold on for a second, dragging an old gaming chair out of the closet for me, grabbing a headset too. 

He sets everything up while I spin around in the chair because, let's face it, I am actually a child in the body of a twenty two year old. Immaturity runs in the family, I guess. The headset gets handed to me, and then he clicks a few things on his screen. He unmutes himself, tells me to try speaking, and chat explodes once I do. 

"Hi guys!" I say, and chat is flying a mile a millisecond. Nick says something about a twitter hashtag to ask me questions, so I pull it up on my phone to start going through it. They're mostly asking if I'm dating either Clay or George, so I avoid those, but there are a few good ones. 

"What does Sapnap's setup room look like?" I laugh. "It's kinda messy, but he's got LED's and a whole bunch of fanart and mail and stuff up." 

"It is not that messy in here, come on." I gesture to the bong and give him a pointed look. "Okay, I may need to take the trash out. Only maybe, chat, no."   
I'm searching for more, Nick reading off a few good ones he finds, when a dono comes in. 

"Why did Dream answer your phone earlier?" The tts reads. I fluster, thankful that the stream can't see it, but my brother definitely can. 

"He's helping me fix something with my computer. And he didn't answer, he was just there."

"We need to get you a better PC." Nick says. He's streaming himself play bedwars, and his hands knock the desk as his bed gets destroyed. 

"Probably." I answer a few more questions, but it has definitely been more than the five minutes I promised. I'm having fun, though, and I can see why they like to do this. "Do I have social media that you guys can follow? I do not, but I can make like, a twitter or something, if you would want that." Chat is a solid tide of yeses, so I get to work on it immediately, making a new email and setting up a twitter account. I wanted it to be @ sisnap, but thats taken, so I add an underscore and set up the account so my name and face aren't attached to it. I do want to keep some bit of anonymity, for my own sake. Once it's up, I show Nick, and he puts it in the stream's title. People start following, and I just tweet a link to Nick's stream. 

"You actually suck at bedwars, Ick." I say at one point in the stream, and he actually groans out loud. "That's gonna get clipped, ew."

"That getting clipped is not as gross as you calling me the nickname you made a whole decade ago on stream." 

"The nickname I made a whole decade ago accurately describes you though. You're icky." I laugh and he tries to hide the fact that he's smiling. 

When Clay joins the stream I tap out, slowly making my way up the stairs and into the kitchen. I put some frozen chicken nuggets in the oven, enough for all four of us, and turn on an alarm for when they're done. With that, I start hunting for George. I'm super close with all the boys, especially Nick, but George and I vibe really well together. 

I find him in the office where his set up is, working away at the video Clay was helping him with earlier. He spins in his chair to face me when I walk in, and smiles. 

"I'm making nuggies." 

"Pog." Out of all the weird slang I've picked up from them, I'm glad that that's not part of it. I roll my eyes at him. 

"You wanna come eat with me? Babies are streaming." 

"Sure." He saves and closes out of a few things before turning the monitors off and and pushing away from the desk. The alarm goes off a few moments after we get back in the kitchen, and I pull the nuggets out. George brings a plate down for both Clay and Nick, and we end up settling on the couch while he puts the stream on TV. The boy's are just messing around, PVPing in a random server and joking around. Nick is talking about how sweet George is for bringing them food, and I pull up the stream on my phone, donating $20 and captioning it   
'i made those nuggets icky nicky'. He laughs, and says thank you. 

"Thank you for food, dear." Clay says, mirroring what I had said this morning, and George turns to look at me. 

"Dear?" I need a way to get out of this. 

"He made us breakfast before y'all woke up, and that's what I said to him. He's quoting me." It's not a lie, and George seems to accept it. Chat doesn't though. They've had enough fodder in the past 24 hours to last them a while, and Clay is explaining the same thing I said to George.

"Chill chat, I made her breakfast, she made us lunch, even trade. Sisnap talks like the southerner she is, texas girl. She calls everyone stupid stuff like that."   
I kind of want to go back on the stream to support that comment, and I drag George with me after stashing my empty plate in the dishwasher. I camp out in my chair from earlier, really laying it on thick. Nick joins me in it, calling George 'Darlin' in the deepest voice he can manage before laughing. 

Eventually the stream has wound down and Nick ends it, standing up and stretching. He checks his phone and I see that it's only one, but I am tired. Not enough to sleep, but I just want to be lazy and lay in my bed. Clay catches me in the upstairs hallway though, drags me to his room. I'm not in here often, but it's nice. His bed is pushed against the far wall in the corner, sloppily made. It's bigger than mine, with head and foot boards that have shelves built into them. A TV sits atop to footboard, xbox off to the side and shelves underneath storing controllers and games. The headboard is full of books, and I nearly giggle at the sight of the whole Percy Jackson series. 

Mister Fanfiction Writer grabs a pair of remotes off his dresser and lays down in his bed, gesturing for me to come lay with him. Hot damn this bed is comfy. His head lays on my shoulder, pushing an arm under the pillow I'm using and snuggling in close. He's playing trashy true crime on the tv quietly, and I'm perfectly content to get grossly invested in the scorned wife who murders her husband and tries to frame her son for it. She doesn't get away with it, cause obviously they catch the killer in the show, that's how it works. The next episode that comes on is set in Florida, an eight year old assaulted and murdered, tucked under the bed of her fourteen year old neighbor, and Clay makes a noise of interest. 

"I remember hearing about this when I was younger." I look at him as best I can. 

"Yeah?" He nods. 

"I wasn't born when it happened, but we had to do like, safeguarding training in school because of it. They mandated it in all the public schools for the younger kids so we could recognize the pedophiles better."

"That's kinda scary." Watching this show and the whole process that this family is going through is bringing up some memories I don't want to dig into.   
I'm quiet for the rest of the episode, trying to tune it out and drowning in thoughts. I had some, issues, with the cops when I was younger, before Nick and our parents were in my life, and they were pretty good about the way that they handled me, but the whole situation was fucked. Nick doesn't know much about it, nobody but me and the detective still running the case know the whole story. Of course, it's coming up on the 11 year anniversary, so there isn't really much to know at this point. Just trying to push it out of my mind as best I can. I'm safe here, with my boys. 

"You okay?" Clay pulls me out of my thoughts. I'm grateful for it, even if he doesn't know he's doing it. 

"Yeah I'm good. Just thinkin'." 

"Yeah? About what?" I hum instead of responding, instead choosing to snuggle as close to him I can, basking in the warmth he radiates. Normally it's oppressive, but now it's comforting. He presses a kiss on the flat of my chest, and throws his other arm over me, trapping me in his arms. I tend squirm out of this position, years of fear making me suspicious of almost every male figure in my life, but I just feel safe, wrapped up in Clay's warmth. 

He changes the show because he says he wants to watch something else, but I'm pretty sure it's for my sake. It's a kids cooking competition show, and it's honestly pretty good. I find myself getting into it, but not as much as Clay, who looks ready to jump through the screen and throttle the announcer when the kid he was rooting for goes home. He's actually cheering for the kids and groaning at the ingredients they get assigned. 

"Do you even know what natto is?" 

"Nope." 

"Fermented beans." The pure look of disgust on his face makes me smile. 

"How do you even know something like that?"

"All my weird food facts come from Olivia." He shakes his head. "She also taught me how to make fried rice and lo mein." That catches his ear. Olivia did teach me to cook american chinese food in the shitty kitchen of our six person suite during finals week. The rest of the girls living with us were pissed because it was 5 am and here we are making rice and being loud, but that was our first finals week as roommates and we got through it as best as we could. It's a skill that the boys are obsessed with, especially Clay. 

"I'll have to meet her sometime, then. Say thank you." That gets my brain going with ideas of Clay coming to campus, being smashed into a twin bed with me, decked out in navy and gold at a swim meet, getting thrown into the pond on campus by my roommates his first night there. Florida man would freeze. Campus feels like a lifetime ago, even though it was almost a year ago, mid March when they kicked us out, and having just passed valentines last week. I've really been living with them almost a year. Still, the idea of Clay being there and seeing that world, of wanting to, fills me with excitement. 

"You wanna visit when I go back?"

"If I'm allowed to, then yeah. I'll come visit whenever you want." I grin. 

"Gonna get to tell all the people on campus your coming and have them throw you in the pond." 

"Yeah? What kind of tradition is that?" It's for... boyfriends, specifically off campus ones, get them drunk and 'pond' them. 

"It'll be your first time a la campussy. Everyone gets ponded their first time, get with the program." He wheezes, whole body moving with the laugh. 

"What?" He's taking these big gulping breaths and wheezing so hard it sounds almost painful. "What did you call it?"

I blink up at him sweetly in faux innocence. "Campussy? Like where I live at college?" His face is bright red, eyes fully shut, mouth smiling wide around his laugh as his fists slam against the bed. 

"That's, that's funny as fuck, oh god." He sounds like he can barely breathe, looks it too, but I think it's cute. My mom always said that you laugh the way that you love, and Clay laughs with everything he has. "Do you actually call it that?" 

"Yeah?" 

"How did you-" He's still laughing a little, and he takes a moment to pause. "How did you come up with that?"

"I didn't. Someone else did, and I started saying it too." I explain, and he jostles me. 

"Here I was thinkin' my girl is so creative. But noooo." His girl. I think we're on the same page about whatever is going on between us, but I don't want to be the one to bring it up. It's been 2 days. There's no rush, not really. 

"You've been thinking a lot today. You sure everything's good?" I nod, shoot him a smile. 

"Just got my brain going. It's okay, bubba, no worries." 

"Promise?"

"Promise."

————————————

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2911 words fo tonight


	6. 6: Would you retain the mind or body of a 30 year old until you die?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find this fic on wattpad!  
> http://w.tt/3qDBTYU  
> You can also follow it on twitter!  
> @sisnap_  
> I will post update notifications, jokes, and sneak peeks so make sure to follow if you like the fic.  
> Hope you enjoy!

The next few days in the house are mostly the same, except the boys are in a frenzy of creating content. I've taken to sleeping in Clay's room, nuzzled against him. It's some of the best sleep I've gotten, but all three of the boys are locked in their respective rooms from about 10am until well past midnight. I wait up for him to sleep, but he's gone by the time I wake up. My grades are thankful, the house aside from the boy's rooms absolutely spotless. I'm thinking of what to do today, knowing there's about an inch of snow on the ground and more falling, so I have to stay here. I'm no stranger to snow, and I do not want to drive in it here, where nobody is equipped for it. I get some chores out of the way, emptying the cat box and kitchen trash into the big cans in the garage, loading dishes in the sink into the dishwasher and running it, hunting down Pi and Patches to trim their claws and shower them with affection.

I make lunch for the boys and deliver it to them like I've done all week. It's been an actual week of this crazy schedule. Clay promised last night that today they'd be done before dinner tonight, and even though I doubt that they'll hold to it, I wanna do something special. I made sure to get the ingredients I would need at the store when I went the day before yesterday, and I'm excited. I start in on dessert first because it takes longer than the actual dinner. I've made things with choux pastry a couple times, but cream puffs with whipped custard in them are my favorite to make. Once I get them in the oven I start on dinner. I'm making lo mein, mainly because I haven't in a while and I know they'll be over the moon about it, but also because I miss Olivia. I facetime with her as I make it and just chat about school things. It's nice. I finish the noodles and then my puffs are done in the oven, ready to cool off and then be filled. It's not a normal combination, but I have been craving takeout style chinese food and french pastry for the past few days.

Cooking busied me for a fair bit of time, and I make my rounds bringing the food to the boys once I have the puffs set up cooling. I bring George's in and set it next to him with a stern reminder that it's not good cold. Nick is endlessly appreciative of the plate piled high, catching my arm as I go to leave and giving me a genuine 'thank you'. Clay is kind of a dick about it. Scratch kind of, he's definitely a dick about it.

I bring him a plate, made up all nice, sure to dig out a few extra pieces of chicken for him because I know he likes it. I knock, and wait, but nothing. I give him a minute, knock again when its up, and then the door swings open with a "What?" barking out of Clay's mouth. I don't like that. Really don't like that. I shake it off, and offer up the plate to him.

"Dinner." He takes the plate and closes the door, where I hear the distinct click of the lock behind him. No thank you, no nothing, didn't even take the fork I brought down for him. Locks himself away. I understand that he's under a lot of stress right now. I get it. Does that give him the right to treat me like how a fifteen year old boy treats his mom? Not at all.

I'm still grumbling when I get back upstairs, a little violent with the cabinets as I get the stuff I need to fill the puffs.

"What's got you all worked up?" George scares the shit out of me and I jump, slamming another cabinet. He's just putting a dish in the sink. Nothing else.

"Clay's being a dick." George 'ahh's, coming over to see what I'm doing. "You guy's anywhere near done?"

"Just finished what I have to do. They've got like, twenty minutes left about." Oh. I must've interrupted something important if they're that close to being done. Still, I was being nice. He should have been nice back. I busy myself with making the filling and then getting it in the shells before covering them with a towel and letting them chill in the fridge. I need something to do, and my schoolwork is already done up until the end of the month. I don't feel like sitting, got the urge to go, do something, anything. At this point, I'd do the workouts I'm supposed to do to stay in shape for swimming. It's not a bad thought, and I head up to my room to pull on leggings and a sports bra so I can get a run in on the treadmill in the mudroom.

I forgot how much this works my lungs, chest heaving after the first mile, but it's all I can think about, focused on not tripping and keeping pace with the preprogrammed workout I have it leading me through. Someone comes in towards the end, but I am focused. Why did I ever stop running? It's mindless, gets my brain to shut up as my body screams. It's nice. It's over sooner than I'd like, but the runner's high holds on as I gulp down half of the water bottle I brought out with me. Clay, apparently, is the someone, standing sheepish off to the side of the doorway. I nod at him, keeping the bottle pressed to my lips as I walk past and climb the steps to my room.

I'm not in the mood to deal with that right now. I wanna give him a little more time to stew, find a good way to make it up to me. I need a shower, and I take my sweet time, making sure to shave, toweling off and putting on some lotion.

By the time I'm done, I still don't want to talk to him, but I know I need to. I find him in his room, putting clothes in his dresser from a basket on his bed. They aren't folded, just piled in the drawer, and I nearly roll my eyes at how male that is. I knock on the doorframe, leaning against it. He turns to me, and a look comes up on his face that I don't recognize.

"I'm sorry." He says, keeping his eyes glued to the floor in front of me. "I was frustrated cause I wanted to be done to eat with you and things were taking too long and then you brought me dinner and I was an asshole to you and I'm sorry about it." The look. It's guilt.

"Thank you." I want to be condescending, or pull a joke, close myself off from him. It's scary, for him to have that much power over me. My heart wins this one though, as I speak soft and low instead of brash or biting. He's not looking at the floor anymore, eyes instead focused on me.

"Can I hug you?"

"I- yeah, you can hug me." He's quick to walk over and throw his arms around my shoulders, breathing deep against the top of my head. It's comforting, and it's not as awkward as I would figure it to be. I'm still kind of, not angry, more hurt that he'd take his own issues out on me, but the discussion surrounding that can come later. I want to snuggle my bubs.

\--------------

At this point, we leave our doors wide open, seeing as the only people who ever come upstairs are Clay and I. This means, however, I am at Pi's mercy to have my face to become his pillow at 7 am mid-sleep. He jumps off my face, leaving me sputtering cat fur out of my mouth. It wakes up Clay, which I feel awful about, but he's barely awake before he's out again. I would follow suit but there's two issues demanding my attention. The fact that the cats are demanding food, and the fact that Clay is hard and it's pressing into my hip.

The cats can wait, I decide. Or find George to have him feed them. I wanna fuck Clay right now. The kitties would support him getting some kitty of his own. I get up to shoo both Pi and Patches out, black puff of mischief leading the way for the sweet tabby. I put my plan into action. Clay is actually waking up, and I've stripped off the large t shirt of his I slept in to exchange it for one of his big black hoodies, drowning in the fabric. "Baby?" He calls out, and I coo, turning and making my way back to him.

"S'okay, just got cold." I am well aware that Clay has his eyes locked to my middle the second his eyes can focus. In the before sunrise light filtering through the blinds, you can just see the outline of my panties.

"Well come back, we can get warm." He's a little red himself already, probably because of the ehem, issue, in his pants. He's trying to be sweet, and it's cute, but right now I want him thinking with the other head.

I straddle him off the bat, just above where he's tenting his sweatpants, a dark grey this time.

"Lay with me." Fuckin- Clay! Think with your cock! Please! I never would have thought I'd be mentally begging for a guy to get horny. Okay. Okay. I slot a leg between his thighs, sure to brush against him as much as I can without being suspicious. His breath skips quietly, and I pretend I didn't hear it, instead gently lowering myself to rest on top of him, purposely 'adjusting' to rub against his cock through his sweatpants. Barely a moment passes and then he's grinding his hips up and then stilling like he's been frozen. He's absolutely blushing, tips of his ears pinked and cheeks flushed. "I-" I don't let him finish, rolling my hips down, and he groans.

My world tilts, and then Clay is resting on one hand above me, the other up under my chin.

"Want to have a talk with you before we do this, behave." I'm torn. I want to be a bitch and make him angry enough to fuck me into the mattress, but I want to be good for him, make him happy. I'm still, quiet, and then a nod. "I want to be rough with you."

"You already have my permission to be rough with me." I counter, but he shakes his head.

"Need a safeword anyway." Fine.

"What are words you never say during sex?"

"Dogwater?"

"No, that won't work cause I'd have to call you that mid-fuck. 'Ugh, Clay, you're dogwater in bed, your dick is built like a tictac Daddy.'"

Clay laughs lightly. "So no George then either, cause I'll be moaning out his name instead of yours."

"Before you make a joke about it our safeword is not going to be my fucking brother's anything." Another gentle laugh from Clay, this one earning him a glare.

"What about like, minecraft or something?" He says at the same time I say 'Saxophone' and he laughs. "Sex-ophone!" He thinks he's so fucking funny, but it's just- I want to get railed, Clay, stop fucking joking around and dick me. 

"Saxophone works." Finally he's on task. 

"Okay, we have a safeword. Make me your bitch." He's not as shy and restrained as he was last time, but he's patient, taking his time to lean down and pull me towards him with the hand under my jaw and kissing me. It's harsh. biting, definitely going to leave me bruised. His hips roll down once, twice, regaining the interest he lost during our talk. 

"The fuck?" Nick is the doorway, and Clay is ripping the blankets over me like he can hide me. It kind of works, by some grace of god. "Why the hell are you having girls in the house during a fucking pandemic?" Clay sputters, trying to come up with an explanation.

"I'm sorry, dude, I thought you said it was okay."

"Clay, brother, I'm okay with you shooting your shot with my sister. Not fucking some random girl in the room next to hers." I wish I could see his face right now. "Especially when it's a fucking, dude, she could have covid!" 

I'm trying so hard not to laugh at the situation, and then Clay speaks. "I'm sorry, I'll get this over with and she'll be gone, I'll quarantine from y'all." 

"Fine, get your dick wet. Just, have them get covid tested and quarantine first next time." I hear the lock switch and the door close, and then the blanket is pulled off of me. 

"Two week quarantine, huh. You want a buddy?" A moment's silence, and then there are thundering footsteps in the hallway, and someone is slamming a fist against Clay's door.

"Is that my FUCKING SISTER?" Oh shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2219 ferda homies


	7. 7: Do you have a secret hunch about how you will die?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find this fic on wattpad!  
> http://w.tt/3qDBTYU  
> You can also follow it on twitter!  
> @sisnap_  
> I will post updates and sneak peeks so be sure to follow for them!  
> Hope you enjoy!

This chapter contains graphic smut. You have been warned. It starts after the line.

A secret hunch of how I'm gonna die? This, right here and right now. I feel like I'm getting chewed out by my mom right now, except instead of Nick and I sitting at the kitchen counter getting yelled at for scratching the car, Clay sits next to me and Nick is using so many more expletives than our mother would. He turned into me first, all 'I'm your brother, you should have fucking told me', and a 'does mom know?' that made me feel kinda bad.

"Nicky-" I start, but he cuts me off.

"Don't Nicky me right now, explain yourself. How long have you been fucking my best friend?"

"A week." Nick raises his eyebrows at me, like he doesn't believe me. I elaborate. "Survivor night was the first time." It seems to get him to believe me. Still, he doesn't look happy. "And you're just fucking?"

Clay speaks before I can, a stern no that has my thoughts racing to places they definitely shouldn't be with my brother in the room. I clear my throat and echo him. "We are not just fucking."

"Okay." Nick steels himself, and turns to Clay. "We've talked about this before." Clay nods. "Shit I said still stands." and that's apparently it, but Clay looks scared enough to shit his pants right now. "You guys can go, just, please lock the door or something next time." Homeboy has never moved so fast in his life. Clay is halfway up the steps before I'm out of my chair, apparently trying to speedrun getting away from Nick.

"Fuck did you say to him?" I want to know what has Clay fucking terrified of the kid he's got 6 inches on and could definitely beat in a fight.

"Don't worry about it."

"Nick." My tone is as severe as I can manage right now, and he knows it. He parrots, my own name sounding harsh on his tongue. "What did you tell him?"

"I said don't worry about it."

I want to drop it, but there's a nagging feeling in the back of my head that Nick is telling Clay things that Clay doesn't need to know yet. "Did you tell him?" Comes from my mouth before I can stop it, and I recognize the flash of realization on my brother's face.

"No." He says, no hesitation, no wavering. "That's your shit to tell him. I just said some bullshit about beating the shit out of him and sending his external harddrive to his mom so she could see all the porn he's got saved if he hurt you. I would never." He looks a little miffed, and I get it. I trust him so much, but I have to be sure 100% that the only people who know are people I tell. The second it's someone else, well. I don't want to think about that.

"You know I don't mean it to hurt you."

"Yeah, I know. I just forget sometimes." Nick definitely needs a hug right now, so I cross over to him and wrap my arms around his middle. "M'sorry, for yellin' at you."

"S'Okay, buddy. Just doing your job as my brother, yeah?" He sniffles from my neck in response. "You wanna play our game?" He nods.

Our game started as what we thought was a shitty Christmas gift. We were begging relatives for gameboy games, and imagine our surprise when our grandpa whips out a playstation 2 game. We didn't have a system, and while grateful for the gift, we were bummed we couldn't use it. Until the card our grandma had given Nick to open had the receipt for the game system in it. We played every day after school, no matter how much the kids in my middle school made fun of me for my best friend being my kid brother. Since getting the first one that Christmas, we've bought and beaten every game in the series enough times to know how to get through the first three games in under an hour and a half each. We do have the updated versions for the PS3 though, which gets tucked away in Nick's closet. George and Clay are very vocal XBox stans, and it's only really used for days where Nicky needs to be cheered up with some Jak and Daxter.

We hook it up to the big TV in the basement, which has one of those like, create your own couch things. You can move it around to be whatever shape you want, so Nick and I build what can best be described as a nest with a whole bunch of blankets and pillows, and start playing. It's a single player game, but we switch after every boss and cheer each other on. It's been a hot minute since we've had sibling time to ourselves. I feel like it's mostly my fault, because I left to go to college and it was far as fuck. Nick came to visit, first weekend of every month. Our parents weren't all that keen on letting a fifteen year old fly halfway across the country that often, but Nick literally got a job to start paying for his own flights. It was fun as fuck, locking in my cement cell of a dorm room with my favorite kid on the planet, playing Call of Duty and getting a noise complaint every time. Still, we went from 24/7 being around each other to two days a month. He slowly stopped being the one I went to for everything, and while I still talked to him all the time, we drifted. It's nice to be back with him, to fall back into knowing each other like that. I never realized how much I missed it, missed him, till the hole got refilled when I moved in. I'm happy I'm back.

Three whole games later, we've played well into the time he should be streaming, and so Nick goes into his set up room and gets to it, going live with Karl, Alex, and Ranboo playing god knows what. I'm tired, and I should probably go talk to Clay, especially after this morning, so I jog up the steps, snag some pop tarts and, as much as I am ashamed to say a house full of adults has these, four capri suns.

He's knocked the fuck out in his bed, Patches curled into his side. I snap a quick picture and give Patches some attention before gently removing her from the bed and settling her outside the door, which I close. I don't want to wake him up, so I pull the snacks I stuffed in the pocket of the hoodie I stole from him this morning and climb into the bed with him. He wakes up and shuffles closer, throwing an arm over me. His face rubs against mine, stubble prickling and it feels nice. "Thought you were getting me back in your brother's good graces." He jokes. I wanna continue, I want to keep it light and casual. But, Clay deserves to know, and then we need to talk about whatever this ends up being after.

"Gotta talk to you about somethin' big." He sits up on his elbow, humming.

"About what I said earlier?"

"Kind of." I need a breath to steady myself. I've never been serious enough about someone to tell them this, except Nick and Olivia. "I told you when we did the questions about how I'm adopted?" He nods, face serious. "I'm adopted because my mom died when I was eleven."

"Shit, baby, I am so sorry."

"There's more. I- I don't live with my dad because he killed her, and I got sent to Texas to live with Nick and our parents cause I'm in witness protection." Clay is looking at me, and I'm waiting for him to say something.

"That's big."

"Yeah." It's silent for a moment, uncomfortably so. Clay just hugs me close to him and breathes.

"I want you to be my girlfriend." I pull back and look at him like he's fucking crazy, because he is. It's dangerous as all hell to be involved with me, for me to be involved with him. I am the one thing that could get my dad in prison, and according to the suits assigned to my case, he's definitely looking for me. And Clay is famous. Like famous as fuck. Nick and George too. I could very easily get found through them, but I don't want to let my dad control me. I've been kind of stuck between this craving for freedom from him and the fear that I've been letting control me since it happened.

"I want to be your girlfriend." Fuck fear. It's been eleven years. I'm done with it.

Clay kisses me for everything I'm worth and then some, and I'm smiling. This fucking boy.

"Gimme a sec." Clay rolls out of the bed, walks awkwardly to the door, and flips the lock. "We got interrupted earlier." I roll my eyes, but I'm smiling.

\----------------

He settles himself on top of me, arms bracing on either side.

"You must be good at planks when you work out, huh?" Clay cocks his head to the side like a confused puppy. "Wonder what else those muscles are good for." Clay leans down, lips catching mine. I nearly miss the actions of his hand until it's resting against my throat, hot, heavy, and dangerous, intoxicatingly so.

"Look so fucking pretty with my hand around your throat." I whine, wanting him to do something, anything. "Such a good whore for me. So fucking needy, though."

"Wouldn't be needing anything if you'd just hurry up and give it to me." I roll my hips up to grind into where he's hard in his sweats, and he sits, trapping me in.

"Stop talking before you regret it." His hand flexes, and I smile, and continue.

"What are you gonna do, choke me?" His eyes are dark, nearly sinister, as the hand on my throat squeezes, cutting off the blood flow to my brain. It's consuming, and I arch as much as I can while Clay is sitting on me, arms shooting to wrap around his wrist, legs searching for a foothold. I like it, definitely a lot more than I should. I try to speak, keep mouthing off, but all that comes out is a garbled version of Clay's name and a desperate, strangled please.

"So desperate for me to fucking touch you, getting so much out of something that could kill you." He relaxes his grip, and I gasp in air before it's back, bruising in the best way, shocks of electricity running up my spine and brain feeling like I'm fucking fried out of my mind. Clay adjusts his body, grinding his hard cock in between my legs and I cry out, pushing up into his hand, his hips, the hard line of his chest against mine. Anything to feel him touch me. "Bet you fucking love this, don't you?"

"Yes, sir." Slips from my lips. It's quiet, barely there, choked out breathlessly and Clay reacts like it's so loud it's deafening. The hand around my throat is gone, instead pulling off the shorts I had put on this morning, panties following. Another hand tugs at my hoodie, before Clay orders 'off' and I just blink up at him.

He fists the hoodie right at the neck of it and pulls my head and shoulders off the bed with it until we're breathing the same air. "I said off." He bites out, and then drops me down on the bed. I consider listening. I really do. It's just so much more fun to rile him up though, and I want his hands around my throat.

"Sorry." I breathe, voice rough. "Can you repeat that?" The hand that comes down on my face is unexpected. He slapped me. I hate the fact that the sting makes me throb, embarrassed.

"Need me to do fucking everything, huh?" The hoodie is pulled up and over my head, and then Clay is moving himself down my body, biting at the skin on my stomach and the insides of my thighs. It hurts deliciously, and I hope it leaves bruises. I want bruises, hope my neck bruises with how hard he was choking me earlier. They're pretty, fun to poke and prod at. He sits up, and it's at this point I realize he's purposely avoiding touching me.

"Yes, sir." His jaw clenches, and his eyes meet mine in a hard stare.

"You need to learn how to fucking behave." I have a fucking deathwish today, apparently.

"You need to hurry the fuck up." The grin that spreads across his face has me terrified in the best way.

"You know, you should be more careful, slut." He's sinking low between my legs, breath hot against my pussy. "Might get more than you ask for." And then he's finally touching me, leads with his tongue and fucking destroys me. It's hot, heavy, insistent against my clit and then licking into me. The first contact feels like 1000 volts rushing through me, nearly gutting me. A moan gets pulled from high in my throat as his mouth works me, tongue circling my clit before he pulls back and fucking spits into my pussy, chasing it with his mouth. It feels fucking amazing, and I know it's only a matter of time before I cum on his tongue. He's got it flattened, licking side to side against my clit and is using those massive warm hands to grab behind my knees, push my legs up and out of his way, getting closer and burying his face between my legs.

"Clay-" I gasp out, and I feel him smile where his face is pressed up against me, nipping my thigh as he turns up to meet my gaze, tongue returning to my pussy and lathing. He's got this smug look on his face, knows he's good and that I want to challenge him, and he's challenging me right back. Two fingers sink into me as he wraps his lips around my clit and sucks hard, tongue flicking and pleasure shooting through me. I feel my orgasm coming, boiling low in my belly, and try to warn him, hips trying to roll only to be stopped by his other hand gripping and holding me down, face and fingers pushing deeper. His fingers curl and I swear I'm seeing fucking stars, cumming hard and moaning, writhing, legs scrambling for purchase in the sheets. 

"Good fucking girl, cumming on my tongue." Clay pulls back just on the brink of overstimulation, coming up to kiss me. I can taste myself on his tongue as he licks into my mouth, kissing me with the same ferocity he was just eating me out with. I'm vaguely aware of his hand on the move, reaching to grab something behind my head before he's off of me, hitting a puff I hadn't seen. I hold my hand out for it, hit it hard, and then hold for as long as I can. Post orgasm high and a buzz? Good shit. 

"You want me to return the favor?" Clay looks at me, taking another pull, and nods. I sit up on my knees, shaky but stable, and look at him. 

"Well?" He furrows his brow. "Lay down." I gesture like I'm shooing him. 

"Pushy." He says low, but he lays down with the puff hanging out of his mouth. I pull his sweatpants down first, mouthing at his hard cock though his boxers before pulling those down too. He's hard, freshly shaven too. I lick at the tip, and his hips jerk. 

"You're one to talk." I look up to catch him rolling his eyes. I wrap a hand around him and jerk him a few times, watching the way his head rolls back and he hisses. 

"Should hurry up before I make you." I am so saving that idea for later. Still, he's right. I'm careful to cover my teeth as I take him into my mouth, hand still wrapped around the base of him. Clay is big, and while I've sucked enough cock to know what I'm doing, I wanna warm up before I choke myself on it. He keens, and I take my hands and push them into his hips to encourage him not to move them. I'm not strong enough to pin him, but I can try. I get to where I can meet my hand, bobbing my head and moving my hand with it. The moan he releases spurs me on, and one of his hands comes to tangle in my hair, just resting. "Fuck, baby, you're fucking good at this." Yes. I am. I pull back and suck hard on the head, and watch his eyes shoot open, his abs curl as he tries to sit up, hand lightly pushing my head down. I comply, sinking down while still sucking, and then swallow. 

"Fuck!" He's twitching in my mouth, and I know he's gotta be close. I get as much of him in my mouth as I can, tongue pushing hard against the vein on the underside of his cock. "Fuck, fuck, shit, I'm gonna-" and then he's cumming hard down my throat. It tastes absolutely awful, but I still swallow it, pulling off and jerking him through it. Once he's done, I wipe my hands on his sweatpants, lean over and grab the puff from him, and hit it. Clay looks at me like I'm crazy, but I just shrug. 

"You're fuckin' weird." I roll my eyes and lay down next to him.

"Sure, I'm weird, Mr. Let me hit my nic right after tongue fucking my girl. I'm weird." Clay looks at me with crazy eyes, and then launches at me, flopping on top of me.

"Sleepy time." He says, ragdolling and fake snoring loud as all hell in my ear. 

"Get off, you fucking weirdo, Oh my god!" But I'm laughing, he is too, and it's nice. He kicks off his sweatpants, snuggles close to me, and we both just conk the fuck out. Before I'm asleep, though, Clay presses a gentle kiss to my forehead with a soft 'night, baby' that has me smiling as I fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3077 gettin ground out in the gulag


	8. 8. Name three things you and your partner appear to have in common.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find this fic on wattpad!  
> http://w.tt/3qDBTYU  
> You can also follow it on twitter!  
> @sisnap_  
> I will post update notifications and maybe sneak peeks so make sure to follow if you like the fic!  
> Hope you enjoy!

We both like cats. We both like survivor. We both really love Nick.

TW: panic attack, fire arms, graphic description of violence

It shouldn't bug me as much as it does. I'm being paranoid. I've gotten a few direct messages like this, but this one has my name right. It stares up at me from my phone screen, and I can feel the fear creeping up my spine. I have to tell Nick. This could be big.

He's in his bedroom, watching tiktoks while huddled in his bed, head peeking out from under what seems like a billion blankets when I knock lightly and walk in. "Y'need something?"

"Promise you won't freak out." He looks confused, but he nods.

"Pinky." I show him my phone. "Fuckin- when did you get this?"

"Last night, late."

"After you streamed Valorant with me."

"Yes."

"Let me see again?" I unlock my phone and hand it to him, and he stares. "I know who you are. How could he? Is- D'you think it's him?"

I don't want to think it's my dad, but I do.

'I know where to find you'

'I know it's you'

'I know who you are'

I'm struggling to breathe, feeling like I'm drowning on dry land. It can't be him, he can't find me, I don't want him to find me. Nick is up with his arms around me, saying something but I can't hear over the heartbeat roaring in my ears. All I can think about is him. Him, standing over her, gun in hand, holding it at me. Me, turning and running in pure fear from my own father, sprinting because my life depended on it to the neighbor's. Calling the cops, 'my dad killed my mom, I think'. I was going to tell her I got an A on my math test. She would have been so excited, she helped me study the night before. He's running down my old street, calling out my name, but it's not his voice, it's Nick. Nick, shaking me, telling me to hold my breath and I do. The room comes back to me. I'm here. I'm safe. 'You're never safe from me, not till you're dead.' Nick is safe. I am safe. I can breathe.

"Fuckin' scared the shit out of me." Nick is safe and Nick is real, because Nick says stuff like that. Nick is real, because I can feel him, solid and warm and alive.

"I'm scared as shit." Nick gets it. He's probably barely holding it together. Even if it's not my dad, this person knows who I am, definitely knows who Nick is, probably Clay and George as well.

'I know where to find you'

"You gotta call your suits." Yeah. I do.

————————

I have the number memorized, I call the first of every month to check in, need to call in a week. I dial without thinking, and freeze at the gruff 'H'llo' from the other end of the line.

"Hey, Suit." I say, and I hear a bit of shuffling from the other end.

"Hey, kiddo, what's up? You're not due to call me for another week." 

"I got new things to talk to you about."

"What's up, Case?" We don't use names. It's just an agreement we have, haven't used them since day one. He's Suit, I'm Case, and that's that. Nick thinks it's weird, but for some reason it makes him more human, less court assigned federal agent. 

I don't know how where to start, so I go back to the beginning, telling him about coming to quarantine with Nick and his friends, and how I'd done a few streams with them since moving in, especially recently. Tell him about how I didn't have my name or face out there, just my voice, and how I'd gotten messages like this on twitter before, but this one had my name. Tell him about how I'm worried he'll dox all of us, especially Clay, who built his whole following while faceless. By the time I'm done I feel a million times lighter, but the heavy weight of dread still sits in my chest. He asks a few questions, gets the log in for my twitter. 

"Can I still use the account while you have it? Or no..." 

"You need a VPN if you don't already have one, but yes. You can still use it."

"Okay, thank you." 

"I'm going to get plainclothes stationed outside the house and we're gonna have daily calls. If you can't call, you let me know, and if you don't then something is wrong."

"Yes, sir." Suit hums, lists off a few other things that I've been doing anyway, and then something jumps out at me.

"I promise we'll find him. Swear, Case. This shits been going on for eleven years too long. They've tracked the IP the message got sent from, it's in Washington state, but he'll probably be on the move. Be safe, Case. Please."

I nod before I remember he can't see me, reassuring him that I will be and bidding him farewell. I had hid out in my room to make the call, and I want to go update Nick on how it went. George and him are sitting on the couch watching an earlier season of Survivor, which I recognize. I climb onto the couch with them, pulling a blanket over myself and settle in. I can do more heavy talk things later. Right now I need to calm down, distract myself, and watch Spencer Bledsoe's first season in Cagayan. Nick heads off to edit a new video, something with Karl and Bedwars, and George and I chat about the season while we watch it.

"I think I'd be good at survivor." George says, and I can kind of see it. Not a good physical game, but George would kill in the social aspect. He'd get far, but he'd probably get left behind because of not winning immunity. This launches us into a discussion of how we'd all play, George making some good points about winning immunity in puzzle based challenges and maybe some of the last to leave ones. Clay's potential tactics are brought up next, and George and I both agree he'd get far but cross the wrong person and get blindsided the second he lost an immunity challenge. Nick is more of a wild card, would probably play too hard in the beginning and get voted off before the merge. 

"What about you, what's your plan of attack?" I've actually thought a lot about it, wishing I could one day go on the show if they caught my dad. 

"Okay so I'm decently athletic, would do well enough in team challenges to keep me in the game. Get the big strong guys in my alliance, the leader who comes up is my closest ally." George listens intently to me as I continue. "Get him to make a deal to take me all the way to the end and then get the jury on my side cause he's the leader of the alliance that voted you off, I'm the kid smart enough to get on his good side and make it all the way here barely stepping on toes. Or win final immunity and double cross the guy. Either works, and gets the jury to see me as a damn good player. A cool mil, easy as." George just sits there for a moment, then holds his fist out. I bump it with mine, and he smiles.

"I see that." It's a nice break from the stress, just hanging out. With how busy the boys have been recently, we've barely had time to just chill and be with each other. When I moved in, I always felt bad because I only knew Nick and they hadn't agreed to live with a stranger. I've now realized that they're totally okay with it, but I was basically a hermit for the first month I was here, not wanting to step on anyone's toes. I've had bad roommates before, and I didn't want to end up being one. I remember the first time I came on Karl's stream at Nick's invitation to play Jackbox and wiped the floor with them after they put in a no pandering rule. Clay's set up was in his room then, hearing him slam his fists against his desk and yell after I hit him with a nasty quiplash. 

It's been fun to get to know them. I mean, I knew how they acted on stream, the versions of themselves they present to the world. I'm a very avid supporter of my younger brother. But it's nice to know them as actual humans, not block men who scream at each other. I had met Clay before, George too, one weekend over the summer before I left for school. Nick had gotten them tickets to visit as a surprise for Clay's 21st, and since Baby Nicky Bear can't go to bars, Clay picked up vice in the form of shitty beer and shittier weed from some local place and a guy I went to high school with. They got crossed out of their minds with George watching over them, eventually giving in to Nick's demands to take them to McDonald's at 4 fucking 30 in the morning to get them all hashbrowns and sausage pancake sandwiches. We made George try sweet tea, which he absolutely hated, much to the dismay of the rest of us. Who doesn't like sweet tea? Especially in the south? Like? George, come on. Channel your inner hick, please. But it was fun, reminded me of the dumb stuff we get up to on campus. I got the urge to build a fort in the woods to smoke in that night, an homage to the south woods on campus. I miss campus.

The school I go to, it's absolutely beautiful. Campus is tucked right on the river, beautiful historic brick buildings and sunlight soaked greens. I would kill to be back there, paddleboarding after practice with the rest of the swim team, eating dinner at a huge table on the porch of the campus center with my suitemates, having campfires in the woods and laying in my hammock for hours on the docks, hung between two pilings and inches above the water. It reminds me of the before in some ways, but in most it's better. It's a small ass school, only about 1500 undergrad, with decent athletic and an amazing education department. I love it there. 

I've found myself to be lost in thought, tuning out the tv and just thinking, daydreaming seems more accurate, about going back. Bringing all the boys and letting them experience just how pretty it is there. Nick loves it, and I have a feeling George and Clay would too. Especially Clay. In the summer it reminds me a lot of the trips to Florida my birth mom and I would take, all hot, humid, and buggy. But the water is right there, feels absolutely amazing after a long summer day. I'm absolutely lost in imagining splashing around with Clay, shoving each other off a paddleboard and kicking our sandy feet together sitting on the edge of the docks at the waterfront. 

I kind of wish he'd gone to college, not for the education but just so that he could live with me on campus. I know it's not really something that interests him, and he's plenty smart without it. All of them are. Nick gets kind of a bad rap cause he's the youngest and he says dumb shit more than the other two, but the kid is wicked smart, took a metric fuckton of AP classes in high school and got honor roll the whole time. But I don't know, I just can picture Clay there so easily in everything other than a class. Clay, knocked the fuck out in my twin bed and taking up the whole thing because he is absolutely massive. Clay, with all the sports boys getting rowdy at a greens party on a saturday night after a big win. Clay, chasing after the townies who rob people on Hallowgreens, our huge halloweekend celebration. He'd love it there, I just know it.

Before I realize it, I'm falling asleep to dreams of Clay and I running rampant on campus, rowdy and loud and free.

\---------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2070 word pog. Sorry this took so long! My draft got deleted and I had to go back and rewrite it, and as an english student, I get a lil nitpicky the second time around. BUT here she is, chapter 8!


	9. 9: For what in your life do you feel most grateful?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find this fic on wattpad!  
> http://w.tt/3qDBTYU  
> You can also follow it on twitter!  
> @sisnap_  
> I will post update notifications and maybe sneak peeks so make sure to follow if you like the fic!  
> Hope you enjoy!

Nick.

Clay is shaking me awake, two plates set on the coffee table in front of me with diner pancakes. 

"Breakfast for dinner tonight." He says, planting himself next to me and grabbing one of the plates. I grab mine and we eat in silence. It's probably comfortable for him, but I have to tell him about what happened. It puts all of us in danger, and all the boys need to know, but I want it to be a one on one conversation with each of them. The TV is still playing in the background, some show I don't recognize, but I stare at it intensely under the pretense of watching. I don't know how to talk to them about this. I feel guilty for bringing them into my mess, feel like even though Clay said it's okay, he doesn't know the full story, and I'm going to just, fuck everything up by telling him. I'm barely eating, more pushing bits of food around my plate and wracking my brain.

"You okay, baby?" No.

"Yeah, just not all that hungry. I'm gonna save this for later." I get up, plate in hand, planning on just tinfoiling it and putting it in the fridge. I'm nervous, fear of rejection, of anger, of what will happen when I tell him bubbling in my stomach. I steel myself before I walk back out into the living room, hands clenching and unclenching. "Can I talk to you about something upstairs?" Clay looks confused, maybe a little worried, but he nods. His plate is left on the coffee table, something I know George will yell at him about later. But that's not as important as this.

He looks decidedly more worried when he sits down on my bed and I don't. I feel restless, pacing the length of my bed and looking everywhere but at him. 'You need to tell him.' Thanks, internal voice, I know. 

"Something happened last night." I'm deadly serious, so quiet you can barely hear me. I can barely hear anything over the heartbeat pounding in my head. "I got a dm on my twitter."

Clay's worried brow furrows into one of confusion. He opens his mouth to speak and I hold up a hand.

"I think it's from my father." He still looks lost, and I realize I'm going to have to explain more of this. There's certain details I can't say, but he deserves to know as much as I can tell him. "I had to call the agent in charge of my case and tell him."

"What does this mean? Like what do we do about this?"

I take a deep breath to calm down my racing pulse.

"There's gonna be cops stationed outside the house in plainclothes. We are allowed to leave and use like, the technology in the house as long as we have a whatever it's called-"

"A VPN? We already have those."

"Since when?"

Clay looks like he's going to crack a joke and then his face falls back into as deadpan as he can get. "I'll install one for you."

"Okay. But we have to be careful about what we do in everything." He nods, looks like he wants to ask me more, wants to push me further. "Do you have any questions?"

"No, no. I-You look like this took a lot out of you, I don't know how the hell you took care of this all by yourself, baby." Guilt hits me like a fucking brick. I didn't do this alone. I didn't want to tell him, didn't want to worry him. 

"Nick helped earlier." Clay takes a minute before he speaks.

"Makes sense, he's your brother." 

"Yeah."

It's silent. Heavy. Deafening. All I can hear is my heartbeat. 

"I'll beat the actual fuck out of whoever lays an ill hand on you, you know that right?" 

"Thank you, bubbas." He smiles, but his eyes aren't in it. I step to him, wrap my arms around him and hug him close. It takes him no time at all to return it, rests his head on top of mine and breathes deep. 

"You know I'm here, and you can talk to me about this kind of stuff, yeah?" 

"Yeah, I know." It's hard though. It's hard because I want to tell him, I want him to know everything, I just- It's not a good time for me to. There's a lot of shit. I didn't get to tell Nick, he found out everything from his parents before I had even showed up. I told Olivia while crossed out of my mind our first week of living together my sophomore year while puking my guts out. Clay is the first person I've told sober, one of only a few people who I have told. I want to tell him, but I'm scared as fuck. "It's just hard."

Clay nods, pulls me impossibly closer and presses a soft kiss in my hair. It's sweet, so much that I want to cry. Today has been an emotional roller coaster, and I just want to sleep until all this has blown over. 

After a while I wave Clay off, tell him to go do the things I know he needs to get done and hasn't. 

"I'm just gonna take a nap, I swear. I'll be okay." He accepts it begrudgingly, heads off downstairs. I do want to just pass out, but I want to shower first, scrub as much of this day off of me before I rest in the hopes that I don't end up having a nightmare about it. It's been a while since I've had one, but waking up screaming in a cold sweat doesn't sound particularly fun. I take my time, let the oppressive heat of the water and steam release as much tension from my muscles as it can before I step out, towel off and get dressed. It's one of Clay's hoodies, now one of my favorite things to sleep in despite the obnoxious green color, and a simple pair of sweats. I want to stay as warm as I can.

\--------------------

When I wake up, it's because someone is yelling. Two people, Nick and Clay, full on pissing match. 

"It's not my shit to tell you about!" I hear Nick yell. "If you want to know, ask her, and if she doesn't tell you get your fucking nose out of it." Ahh. It's about me. I had figured Nick wouldn't be able to be okay with it for long, but his words have my mind running. 'Not my shit to tell you about'. Is Clay asking him about me? I get pulled from my thoughts by more yelling.

"Forgive me for not wanting to traumatize her further, she obviously doesn't want to talk about it!" Clay. No denying it. 

"Shit doesn't matter, if she doesn't tell you, you don't know. It's not my fucking place to tell you her shit." I'm used to them yelling, they're rowdy boys, but the malice they're directing at each other has me worried. I want to go down, break it up, but I'm afraid that will do more harm than good. Picking sides in this won't end well.

"We're supposed to be fucking friends, Nick, and I'm worried about her. Having all the fucking information would help me help her."

"You're not coming to me as a friend about this shit. Right now, you're my sister's whatever the fuck y'all are, and I would never break her trust like that. I'm fucking pissed you'd think I'd do something like that." There's silence for a moment, and then a loud sound. "I'm fucking leaving till you can get your shit together. This isn't a fight we should be having. Grow the fuck up, Clay, talk to her like she's a person. She's not going to fucking break." I hear the door to the mudroom slam, and then Clay is storming up the steps. 

I don't want to deal with this, don't want him to come to my room until he's calmed down. I'm scared of him right now. 

But he just thunders past my room, slams his own door, and leaves me alone. 

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1365, so it's a shorty but the tea oml


	10. 10: If you could change anything about the way you grew up, what would it be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find this fic on wattpad!  
> http://w.tt/3qDBTYU  
> You can also follow it on twitter!  
> @sisnap_  
> I will post update notifications and maybe sneak peeks so make sure to follow if you like the fic!  
> Hope you enjoy!

Shit, that one's hard. There's so much I could change, so many things I've wished I could but, well, that shit made me who I am today. Obviously, I'd rather not lose my mom or live everyday terrified that my dad would come kill me, but that shit happening got me my brother. I don't know. As awful as it was, I can't imagine a better one that makes me the person I am now. I don't have an answer for this one right now.

What I do have an answer for is whatever the fuck that sound was. Clay's fist hitting the wall. There's a hole in the drywall, bloodstained, right next to the picture of the first time the three of them all met up in person. It fell, glass shattering. I can't help but feel like it's symbolic. He's still locked in his room, stayed there all night and all day yesterday. There's a palpable tension through the whole house.

Nick's safe, hunkered down at our parents' house while this blows over. All three of the boys have tweeted about a hiatus until further notice, which breaks my heart just a little. I'm the reason they're fighting, the reason they're putting their careers on hold. Everything I was scared about is happening, much sooner than I thought it would. I tried to talk to Clay yesterday, but he's busy shitting the bed over this, said some dickhead thing about wanting to be left 'the fuck alone' so I am doing just that, binging random shitty british TV with George. I'm surprised by how much he loves trashy drama and reality shows, but he's apparently super into them. I should get him into Grey's Anatomy. We're currently watching Big Brother UK, and I can barely follow what's going on. George, on the other hand, is basically glued to the TV.

We're both so engrossed that I don't realize Clay has left his room until he slinks through the kitchen and into the basement, not addressing either of us. Whatever. Let him keep up being an asshole. I'm not entirely mad at him for the fight. Of course, it's wrong of him to be asking Nick for stuff like that, but I really can't blame him. I didn't give him much, and he's obviously worried. But I am mad about the way he's acting now. Locked in his room for nearly 2 days and ignoring everyone, including his sisters. George had gotten a facetime asking if he was okay from Caitlyn, her saying something about him rejecting her calls before George closed his door behind him for a little privacy.

It's annoying, the way he's acting like a kid who got his nintendo taken away and decided that ignoring his whole family is the way to get it back, instead of apologizing like a normal human being. I mean, we've all been there, but you're 21 for god's sake, Clay, come on now. George is vehemently keeping his nose out of it, which I appreciate. I told him yesterday about the basics of what's been happening, and he's been the best about it. There was a 'Do you want to talk about it?' that hasn't been pushed, and gentle support, and that's all. Nick is great about it, but he works himself up into such a worry, and Clay, well. He's just acting like a child.

"Is he still being a baby over this?" At least I'm not the only one who thinks so.

"I think they both are. Like good on Nick for removing himself instead of being the absolute dick I know he can be, but go to your room or something, not your mom's house." George laughs a little, like he's unsure if he can. "Just pisses me off that they won't get over themselves."

"They've fought like this before, and it's just so, ughh." Felt, George. Felt.

"It's frustrating, that's for damn sure."

"Yeah."

We sit in mutual silence, both staring at the TV but just, not interested.

"Should we talk to him?" I don't know. Maybe talking to George would do him some good.

"I don't trust myself to keep emotions out of it. And I don't want to seem like I'm picking sides in this. Maybe just you?" George nods, stands up and makes his own way to the door to the basement, pulls it shut tight behind him. I feel like shit that they're fighting, even more so that it's about me, but Clay wasn't right. While understandable, it's still not okay, and I know we need to have another talk.

I need something mindless to distract me, and end up facetiming Olivia.

"Hi Baby!" She says the second she picks up. She's driving, and I feel a little bad.

"Hi momma Wivs." I try to mimic her tone, but I definitely don't succeed, sounding very much sad.

"Is everything alright, dear?" She knows me best, always has.

"Clay and Nicky are fighting."

"Aww, baby." She coos, and I hear her turn signal start clicking. "Which one is being the dick?" Ahh, yes. Olivia knows boys well, even if she's gay.

"Both of them, kinda." I see her frown.

"Which one is being the bigger dick?"

"Clay." I mean, it's true, but still, I feel bad saying it.

"Well, is there anything you can do to fix it? Or help? I don't like seeing you all emo." I'm hit with a wave of just, sheer appreciation for her.

"George is talking to Clay right now, and Nicky isn't mad anymore, just wants to stay away and let Clay chill out."

"Wait, stay away?"

"Oh, yeah, he left, he's at our parents'." Olivia takes a beat.

"Clay was such a dick that Nick left?"

"No, Nick just wanted to leave before shit got out of hand." Another pause.

"Babygirl, does that sound like Nick? Or does that sound like an excuse he's make for your sake?" Shit. She's right. I don't want to pick sides, but I'm definitely on Nick's, and I feel guilty about it, but... if Nick left, it's probably a big deal. Definitely a bigger deal than I thought. "It sounds like you need to talk to both of them, most likely."

"Yeah." It's shy, quiet. I feel absolutely awful, especially since I'm the one that put the two of them in this position. "I should go do that."

"Alrighty then." I'm about to hang up, and then I just-

"Love you, momma Wivs."

"Love you more, honey. Be safe, yeah?" and then she ends the call herself. Olivia is normally just what I need, always knows what to do when shit goes south. She's a great friend, and I should probably tell her that a lot more often.

Next on the call list is Nick, but I want to go upstairs for this one. It needs to be a lot more private. I hunt down Pi, which isn't hard because he's just lounging on the steps, and lock myself in my room. Clay's hoodie is hung over the back of my chair, smiley face just staring up at me. I turn it over, then call my brother.

It's nice, to hear his voice. It's been, what, a day and a half? but I usually see him all the time, so I excuse the fact that I miss him to that. We talk, much needed, about everything that happened. Nick found Clay trying to hunt my dad down, told him to stop and Clay wouldn't, said he needed to protect me. Nick called him off, and Clay started grilling Nick for information, which Nick didn't give him. And then shit hit the fan, Clay nearly broke his hand on the drywall, and Nick got in an Uber and went home. He takes me around, lets me see Cash and the kitties, our parents. I really wish we could see them more often, but they're older and really worried about covid. It's not that they'd turn us away, but out of respect to them and their health, we haven't been visiting that much. It's always nice to see them, a reminder that weekly video calls just aren't enough.

Eventually, it's just me and Nick again, and I ask the question that's been burning in my brain.

"When are you coming home, bubs?"

Big sigh.

"I want to, but I know him, and I know he's still pissed."

"Yeah, probably. George is talking to him about it."

"Right now?" He sounds surprised.

"Yeah, he went down to talk to him like 20 minutes ago. Is that bad?" I see Nick shake his head.

"Nah, George normally waits to talk him out of his shit. But I should come home, probably tomorrow."

"Do you want me to come get you?"

"Yeah, actually, that'd be great." I hear him call back to our mom over his shoulder, something about me coming to get him, and then my mom is crowding him and taking the phone back.

"Honey, I'm so excited to see you tomorrow! Finally, another girl in the house!" It gets me to laugh. Our mom was always so excited to have a daughter, would pull me out of school sometimes to get our nails done and go shopping and have 'gal time'. It was never my favorite at the time, but now I really miss the time I'd spend with her. I'm happy to see them again.

We chat for a while, make plans to spend most of the day there and have some much needed family time. She's been reassured that we've been really good about covid, because we have been damn good about it. It briefly hits me that I should probably tell them what's been happening, and I make myself a promise that I'll tell them tomorrow. It's definitely an in person conversation if it can be.

Our chat is interrupted by a light knock on my door, Clay opening it and standing sheepishly in the hallway, avoiding my eyes.

"Hey, Ma, I gotta go, but I'll talk to you and see you tomorrow, yeah? I love you!" I wait to hear her goodbye, and then end the call.

"Can I come in?" I just nod, steel myself. This better be a hell of an apology. He needs it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1720 for today. I know the past few chaps have been shorter but we should be back to our regularly scheduled long boys soon, so don't fret.


	11. 11. Take four minutes and tell your partner your life story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find this fic on wattpad!  
> http://w.tt/3qDBTYU  
> You can also follow it on twitter!  
> @sisnap_  
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> Hope you enjoy!

Four minutes is too much and not enough, but okay. I was born on the east coast, in southern Virginia. I lived there, did school and swam and played lacrosse as a kid. I had a few really close friends, but then shit hit the fan and I moved to texas about a month after everything, started living with my new parents and my new brother. Uhm, started middle school here, had a hard time making friends, didn't really trust most people, but I ended up getting super close with my brother over it. High School was kind of the same, but I met some cool people sophomore year and was friends with them till graduation. I go to college near where I grew up, studying education and psychology. I swim there, too, been doing that for a while, since my adoptive parents found out I did it at home. Got sent home nearly a year ago by covid, and now I live with my brother, my new boyfriend, and our friend George that they work with. And that's four minutes.

"I-" Clay starts, but stops, wringing his hands in his lap and shifting. "I had a whole thing to say to you and now it's not good enough." He admits, staring at where his hands lay. He's sat in the chair at my desk, spun around to face me, which he has yet to do. His head is hung, eyes on the floor or his lap pretty much the entire time he's been in here.

I want to be mean, or rude, tell him to just spit it out and get on with it, but he's torturing himself just sitting there, I don't need to add to it. Still, it's been nearly twenty minutes of him starting and stopping, and the word 'sorry' has yet to be said.

"I know this is exactly what you didn't want to happen, and I want you to know it's not your fault. It's mine." A good start, I guess. "I should have asked you, or just left it, and I didn't and it's on me." He sighs, and looks up at me. "I just wanna keep you safe." His voice breaks on the last word, and he sniffs. "And that's not the way to do it and I know it's not and I was just worried and scared and thought I could help and Nick was right but I didn't want him to be and I acted like an idiot and I'm sorry." He's crying, keeping his head down to hide it, but it doesn't do much. I reach out to him, a gentle hand on his knee just to reassure him.

"I know you're worried, bubs." A big snuffle. "And you can talk to me about it. I'm here for you, know you guys aren't used to how crazy this shit can be."

"I'm sorry I didn't talk to you about it, baby. I'm not-" His hands come up to his face, making fists against his forehead before unclenching and holding his head up. "Not used to having people, like this." It kind of breaks my heart. Yeah, he has George and Nick, but Clay really just isn't the kind of person who goes all that deep unless he really trusts someone. And while it stings that he'd rather go it alone than ask for my help, I get it, in a sense. Trust is hard.

"C'mere." I say, tugging one of his arms as I stand up. His eyes are red and puffy when they meet mine, face wet with tears. I don't say anything, just wrap my arms around him and pull him close. He takes a shuddered breath and reciprocates the hug, face buried in my neck. He's still crying, I definitely am too.

"Thank you." He's quiet, voice shaky, but it's comforting.

"Missed you." I bury my head in his chest, wanting to just drown myself in his presence. "Can we just lay down and snuggle?"

Clay barely huffs a laugh, but pulls back just to press a kiss into my forehead with a small smile. My heart fills, it's just such a sweet gesture. God, why didn't I tell him sooner.

We end up downstairs because Clay wanted to watch his weird cooking show, huddled up under the same blanket. He's laid on top of me, my back pressed up against the cushions of the peninsula on the couch, head tucked into my chest as I play with his hair. There's no real way he can see the TV like this, though neither of us are really watching. It's more of just enjoying the time we have together, relishing in the fact that we can do this again, that we're okay again.

All too soon, it's time for us to go to bed, leave the comfort we've created on the couch. Clay stops outside my door, stands and scratches the back of his neck.

"You can come in here and sleep with me, Clay. You don't have to ask." He lights up, gets in my bed and immediately makes himself comfortable, spinning a pillow 90 degrees and folding it in half because he's apparently very picky about my pillows. "Comfy?" I can't help but laugh.

Clay just hums, pulls the comforter up to his chin and settles in. I just smile and roll my eyes, turning to get pajamas. I look back at him, where he's got his eyes trained on my ass in cotton shorts. Men. There's a shirt of his on top of my basket of clean laundry, which replaces the hoodie I was wearing. I'm not about to wear layers when sleeping with a human furnace, no thank you.

"Come on now, snuggle time." I don't respond, just pull up the blanket and settle beneath it, Clay's arms snaking around and pulling me close.

"Missed you." I'm surprised I don't miss him saying it, with how quiet it is. It's punctuated by a soft kiss pressed to my forehead, gentle fingers drawing patterns I can't make out where his hands lay, steady rising and falling of his breath, and soft tickles of his hair against my skin. For someone who uses dollar store three in one shampoo, his hair is soft. 

After too long of not sleeping together, it's nice, takes what feels like seconds before I'm waking back up to the blaring of my alarm. It's the dinosaurs from Jurassic Park, the only thing I've found so far that's loud enough to wake me up enough to get myself the rest of the way awake. The second I'm conscious enough to recognize my surroundings, I'm half oppressively hot and half freezing cold. Somehow we've ended up with the blanket crumpled at the foot of the bed, me half mounted on Clay with my head on his chest, Clay just laid out on his back with one arm tucked under my pillow and the other tangled in my hair. 

It makes my heart melt to get up, would love to stay here in our own little world, but I have things to do, places to be, people to see. I need to go see my family, time with them is long overdue. I haven't seen them aside from a weekly facetime since christmas, and it's nearly March. I'll have to see if they want to do something for Nick's birthday. 

Dragging myself out of bed is made about 30 times harder by the deathgrip Clay decides to wrap me in the second I try to move, but I manage to escape to get dressed and feed Pi, making note to feed Patches too when I get downstairs if George hasn't already. My normal morning routine, a kiss to Clay's forehead while he makes grabby hands and whines about me leaving, and a fresh bowl of Patches' food later, I'm back behind the wheel of my car. Thank god. 

Driving has always been one of my favorite things, even if I'm a bit of a lead foot. The drive isn't long, maybe 20 minutes, but it's been a minute, takes a little thinking to make the right turns, find the streets I half grew up on. 

The house is a little closer to the city than the one we live in now, still tucked in a neighborhood in the suburbs, but the houses are closer together and the neighborhoods are sprawling, not like our little four house cul de sac backed up to the woods. It's nice, though, a white single story ranch style a 5 minute walk from where Nick and I went to school. Our mom is waving from the front porch as I pull in the drive next to Dad's project car, a '67 Ford Bronco he bought in 2017 that he's been restoring since. She's running to the drivers side and I can see she's vibrating with excitement, smiling behind her mask. 

"Hi, Ma." I say as I pull the door open, immediately getting tugged into a hug. It makes me laugh.

"Oh, hush. I haven't seen my babies in months and now I get both of you! I'm gonna get hugs, dear." I roll my eyes, earning a light slap on the arm, but she's smiling with her eyes, know I look the same way under the mask. 

"I missed you too, Ma. You know that." She nods, bumps my shoulder with hers as we head inside. Nick's sat at the table across from our dad, playing poker with splenda packs like we did way back when he was trying to teach us to play. I look over my dad's shoulder, see a two pair, whereas Nick has shitall, and push all of Nick's packs in. 

"Hey, what're yo-"

"Icky's all in, Pops." My dad laughs, meets and drops his cards down, which gets Nick punching my shoulder. 

"The fuck did you do that for?" He's heated, but I can tell he's not mad, not really. 

"Nicholas David, watch your fucking mouth!" I love our mom. 

"Ma, what?!"

"Nicky bear, don't talk back to your momma, goddamnit."

"It's your mom too, why is it bully Nick day?"

Our dad just laughs and shakes his head. "It's cause you're the youngest, Nick." 

"I miss being an only child." Nick grumbles, and I know he's kidding. That kid was so excited to get a sibling, was disappointed when I needed time to be able to have a brother and a family again. 

"Kids, one of you set the table. I have lunch all ready." It's freshly 11 am, but what momma say's goes, so, I guess it's lunchtime. I'm not mad though, Ma's cooking is the definition of southern comfort food, and it's damn good. She made fried chicken today, can tell my the mouthwatering smell drifting from the kitchen. 

Apparently there's collard greens and corn bread too, sweet tea brewing in a pot on the stove and a quarter full pitcher on the table dripping condensation. It's a memory I can link many places, a post swim meet meal, or after one of Nick's football games. We had it the night I came back from college for my first summer break, the night Nick got fired from his first job. It makes me happy, but it's bittersweet. Fuck covid for taking this away from me, and fuck me for distancing myself from it. Southern Virginia can't do fried chicken like Texas does. We eat, mill around, help my mom with a few chores she needs done, and then she sends us on our way with plenty of leftovers for all four of us, makes us promise to come by, make use of the screen porch and patio out back as the weather gets warmer. 

"I love you two!" She calls from our dad's side as they wave us off, and I can't help but smile. 

"Two loves you two." Nick calls, some dumb response we'd come up with after slipping up with joint 'I love you's too many times. 

God, I fucking love my family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2010 words poggy woggy
> 
> sorry it took a hot minute but im a busy gal, aight? anyways, more soon.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Give me feedback in the comments!!


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